. 


Dollard  and  ITis  Command  Taking  the  Oath. 


THE 
ROMANCE  OF  DOLLARD 


BY 
MARY   HARTWELL  CATHERWOOD 


ILLUSTRATED 


•    • 
.. 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

NEW-YORK 
1914 


COPYBIGHT,  1888,  1889, 

BT  MAST  HABTWELL  CATHBBWOOD. 


«y  JAMBS  a  CATH»WOOD. 


CONTENTS. 

I  A  SHIP  PROM  FRANCE  7 

II  LAVAL  13 

III  THE  KING'S  DEMOISELLE  23 

IV  THE  HUSBAND  29 

V  JACQUES  HAS  SCRUPLES  47 

VI  A  RIVER  C6rE  57 

VII  A  HALF-BREED  69 
Vm  THE  HURON  74 

IX  THE  LADY  OP  ST.  BERNARD  82 

X  THE  SEIGNIORY  KITCHEN  93 

XI  MADEMOISELLE  DE  GRANVILLE'S  BROTHER    99 

XII  BOLLARD'S  CONFESSION  109 

XIII  THE  CHAPEL  OP  THE  H6rEL-DiEu  118 

XIV  MASSAWIPPA  128 

XV  THE  WOOING  OP  JOUANEAUX  146 

XVI  FIRST  USE  OP  A  KNIFE  156 

XVII  JOUANEAUX'S  HOUSE  161 
XVHI  THE  WALKING  HERMIT  176 

XIX  THE  HEROES  OP  THE  LONG  SAUT  186 

XX  POSTERITY  199 


392438 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    BOLLARD. 


PREFACE. 

BY  FRANCIS    PARKMAN. 

THE  exploit  which  forms  the  basis  of  the 
following  story  is  one  of  the  most  notable 
feats  of  arms  in  American  annals,  and  it  is  as 
real  as  it  is  romantic. 

The  chief  personages  of  the  tale  —  except, 
always,  the  heroine  —  were  actual  men  and 
women  two  and  a  quarter  centuries  ago,  and 
Adam  Dollard  was  no  whit  less  a  hero  than  he 
is  represented  by  the  writer,  though  it  is  true 
that  as  regards  his  position,  his  past  career, 
and,  above  all,  his  love  affairs,  romance  sup- 
plies some  information  which  history  denies 
us.  The  brave  Huron  Annahotaha  also  is  his- 
torical. Even  Jouaneaux,  the  servant  of  the 
hospital  nuns,  was  once  a  living  man,  whose 
curious  story  is  faithfully  set  forth ;  and  Sisters 


Bresoles,  Ma<?e,  and  Maillet  were  genuine  Sisters 
of  the  old  Hotel-Dieu  at  Montreal,  with  traits 
much  like  those  assigned  to  them  in  the  story. 

The  author  is  a  pioneer  in  what  may  be  called 
a  new  departure  in  American  fiction.  Fenimore 
Cooper,  in  his  fresh  and  manly  way,  sometimes 
touches  Canadian  subjects  and  introduces  us  to 
French  soldiers  and  bush-rangers ;  but  he  knew 
Canada  only  from  the  outside,  having  no  means 
of  making  its  acquaintance  from  within,  and  it 
is  only  from  within  that  its  quality  as  material 
for  romance  can  be  appreciated.  The  hard  and 
practical  features  of  English  colonization  seem 
to  frown  down  every  excursion  of  fancy  as  piti- 
lessly as  puritanism  itself  did  in  its  day.  A 
feudal  society,  on  the  other  hand,  with  its  con- 
trasted lights  and  shadows,  its  rivalries  and 
passions,  is  the  natural  theme  of  romance ;  and 
when  to  lord  and  vassal  is  joined  a  dominant 
hierarchy  with  its  patient  martyrs  and  its  spir- 
itual despots,  side  by  side  with  savage  chiefs 
and  warriors  jostling  the  representatives  of  the 
most  gorgeous  civilization  of  modern  times, — 
the  whole  strange  scene  set  in  an  environment 
of  primeval  forests,— the  spectacle  is  as  striking 
as  it  is  unique. 


The  realism  of  our  time  has  its  place  and 
function ;  but  an  eternal  analysis  of  the  famil- 
iar and  commonplace  is  cloying  after  a  while, 
and  one  turns  with  relief  and  refreshment  to 
such  fare  as  that  set  before  us  in  Mrs.  Gather- 
wood's  animated  story. 

FRANCIS 


PREFACE. 

BY  THE  AUTHOB. 

THE  province  of  Canada,  or  New  France, 
under  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  presented 
the  same  panorama  of  lakes,  mountains,  rivers, 
rapids,  that  it  does  to-day;  but  it  was  then  a 
background  for  heroes,  and  the  French  popu- 
lation which  has  become  concentrated  in  the 
larger  province  of  Quebec  was  then  thinly 
dripped  along  the  river  borders.  Such  figures 
as  Samuel  de  Champlain,  the  Chevalier  La 
Salle,  impetuous  Louis  de  Buade,  Count  of 
Frontenac,  are  seen  against  that  dim  past ;  and 
the  names  of  men  who  lived,  fought,  and  suf- 
fered for  that  province  are  stamped  on  streams, 
lakes,  streets,  and  towns. 

All  localities  have  their  romance,  their  unseen 
or  possible  life,  which  is  hinted  to  the  maker  of 


stories  alone.  But  Canada  is  teeming  with,  such 
suggestions  —  its  picturesque  French  dwellers 
in  remote  valleys  are  to-day  a  hundred  or  two 
hundred  years  behind  the  rush  of  the  age. 

Adam  Daulac,  Sieur  des  Ormeaux,  stands  dis- 
tinct against  the  background  of  two  centuries 
and  a  quarter  ago.  His  name  and  the  names  of 
his  companions  may  yet  be  seen  on  the  parish 
register  of  Villemarie  —  so  its  founders  called 
Montreal.  His  exploit  and  its  success  are  mat- 
ters of  history,  as  well  authenticated  as  any 
event  of  our  late  civil  war.  While  the  story  of 
Thermopylae  continues  to  be  loved  by  men,  the 
story  of  Bollard  cannot  die.  It  is  that  picture 
of  stalwart  heroism  which  all  nations  admire.  It 
is  the  possible  greatness  of  man  —  set  in  this 
instance  in  blue  Canadian  distances,  with  the 
somber  and  everlasting  Laurentines  for  its  wit- 
nesses. The  phase  is  medieval,  is  clothed  in  the 
garb  of  religious  chivalry;  but  the  spirit  is  a 
part  of  the  universal  man. 

MARY  HAETWELL  CATHERWOOD. 


THE   ROMANCE   OF   DOLLARD. 


A    SHIP    FROM    FRANCE. 

April  of  the  year  1660,  on  a  morning  when 
no  rain  drizzled  above  the  humid  rock  of 
Quebec,  two  young  men  walked  along  the 
single  street  by  the  river.  The  houses  of 
this  Lower  Town  were  a  row  of  small 
buildings  with  stone  gables,  their,  cedar-shingled 
roofs  curving  upward  at  the  eaves  in  Norman  fash- 
ion. High  in  north  air  swelled  the  mighty  natural 
fortress  of  rock,  feebly  crowned  by  the  little  fort  of 
St.  Louis  displaying  the  lilies  of  France.  Farther 
away  the  cathedral  set  its  cross  against  the  sky.  And 
where  now  a  tangle  of  streets,  bisected  by  the  city 
wall,  climb  steeply  from  Lower  to  Upper  Town,  then 
a  rough  path  straggled. 

The  St.  Lawrence,  blue  with  Atlantic  tide-water, 
spread  like  a  sea  betwixt  its  north  shore  and  the  high 
palisades  of  Fort  Levi  on  the  opposite  bank.  Sail- 

T 


8  'TKE-  AbMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 


T  skiffs  were'e  ranged  in  a  row  at  the  water's 
edge.  And  where  now  the  steamers  of  all  nations 
may  be  seen  resting  at  anchor,  on  that  day  one  soli- 
tary ship  from  France  discharged  her  cargo  and  was 
viewed  with  lingering  interest  by  every  colonist  in 
Quebec.  She  had  arrived  the  previous  day,  the  first 
vessel  of  spring,  and  bore  marks  of  rough  weather 
during  her  voyage. 

Even  merchants'  wives  had  gathered  from  their 
shops  in  Lower  Town,  and  stood  near  the  river's  edge, 
watching  the  ship  unload,  their  hands  rolled  in  their 
aprons  and  their  square  head-covers  flaring  in  the  wind. 

"  How  many  did  she  bring  over  this  time  ?  "  cried 
a  woman  to  her  neighbor  in  the  teeth  of  the  breeze. 

"  A  hundred  and  fifty,  my  husband  told  me,"  the 
neighbor  replied  in  the  same  nipped  and  provincial- 
ized French.  And  she  produced  one  hand  from  her 
apron  to  bridge  it  over  her  eyes  that  she  might  more 
unreservedly  absorb  the  ship.  "Ah,  to  think  these 
cables  held  her  to  French  soil  but  two  months  ago ! 
Whenever  I  hear  the  Iroquois  are  about  Montreal  or 
Ste.  Anne's,  my  heart  leaps  out  of  my  breast  towards 
France." 

"  It   is   better  here  for  us,"  returned  the  other,  - 
"  who  are  common  people.    So  another  demoiselle  was  - 
shipped  with  this  load.    The  king  is  our  father.    But  • 
look  you !  even  daughters  of  the  nobles  are  glad  to 
come  to  New  France." 


A    SHIP   FROM   FRANCE.  9 

"And  have  you  heard/'  the  second  exclaimed,  "  that 
she  is  of  the  house  of  Laval-Montmorency  and  cousin 
of  the  vicar-apostolic  ? n 

"  The  cousin  of  our  holy  bishop  t  Then  she  comes 
to  found  some  sisterhood  for  the  comfort  of  Quebec. 
And  that  will  be  a  thorn  to  Montreal.'7 

"No,  she  comes  to  be  the  bride  of  the  governor- 
general.  We  shall  soon  see  her  the  Vicomtesse  d'Ar- 
genson,  spreading  her  pretintailles  as  she  goes  in  to 
mass.  Well  would  I  like  a  look  through  her  caskets 
at  new  court  fashions.  These  Laval-Montmorencys 
are  princes  in  France.  Vli,  soldiers ! "  the  woman 
exclaimed,  with  that  facile  play  of  gesture  which  seems 
to  expand  all  Canadian  speech,  as  she  indicated  the 
two  men  from  Montreal. 

"  Yes,  every  seigniory  will  be  sending  out  its  men 
to  the  wife  market.  If  I  could  not  marry  without 
traveling  three  thousand  miles  for  a  husband,  and 
then  going  to  live  with  him  in  one  of  the  river  cdtes, 
I  would  be  a  nun." 

"  Still,  there  must  be  wives  for  all  these  bachelors," 
the  other  woman  argued.  "And  his  Majesty  bears 
the  expense.  The  poor  seasick  girls,  they  looked  so 
glad  to  come  ashore  ! " 

These  chatting  voices,  blown  by  the  east  wind, 
dropped  disjointed  words  on  the  passers'  ears,  but 
the  passers  were  themselves  busy  in  talk. 

Both  were  young  men,  but  the  younger  was  evi- 


10  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

dently  his  elder's  feudal  master.  He  was  muscular 
and  tall,  with  hazel  eyes,  and  dark  hair  which  clus- 
tered. His  high  features  were  cut  in  clear,  sharp 
lines.  He  had  the  enthusiast's  front,  a  face  full  of 
action,  fire,  and  vision-seeing.  He  wore  the  dress  of 
a  French  officer  and  carried  his  sword  by  his  side. 

"  I  think  we  have  come  in  good  time,  Jacques,"  he 
said  to  his  man,  who  stumped  stolidly  along  at  his 
left  hand. 

Jacques  was  a  faithful-looking  fellow,  short  and 
strong,  with  stiff  black  hair  and  somber  black  eyes. 
His  lower  garments  looked  home-spun,  the  breeches 
clasping  a  huge  coarse  stocking  at  the  knee,  while 
remnants  of  military  glory  clothed  his  upper  person. 
Jacques  was  plainly  a  soldier  settler,  and  if  his  spear 
had  not  become  a  pruning-hook  it  was  because  he 
had  Indians  yet  to  fight.  His  hereditary  lord  in 
Prance,  his  late  commander  and  his  present  seignior 
under  whom  he  held  his  grant  of  land,  was  walking 
with  him  up  the  rock  of  Quebec. 

This  Jacques  was  not  the  roaring,  noisy  type  of 
soldier  who  usually  came  in  droves  to  be  married 
when  Louis'  ship-load  of  girls  arrived.  Besides,  the 
painstaking  creature  had  now  a  weight  upon  his  soul. 
He  answered : 

"  Yes,  m'sieur.  She  will  hardly  be  anchored  twenty- 
four  hours." 

"  In  four  hours  we  must  turn  our  backs  on  Quebec 


A    SHIP   FROM  FRANCE.  H 

with  your  new  wife  aboard,  and  with  the  stream 
against  us  this  time." 

"  Yes,  m'sieur.  But  if  none  of  them  will  have  me, 
or  they  all  turn  out  unfit! n 

His  seignior  laughed. 

"  Prom  a  hundred  and  fifty  sizes,  colors,  and  disposi- 
tions you  can  surely  pick  yourself  one  mate,  my  man." 

"But  the  honesty  of  them,"  demurred  Jacques, 
"  and  their  obedience  after  you  are  at  the  trouble  of 
getting  them  home ;  though  girls  from  Rouen  were 
always  good  girls.  I  have  not  made  this  long  voyage 
to  pick  a  Rouen  wife,  to  go  back  again  empty  of  hand. 
M'sieur,  it  is  certainly  your  affair  as  much  as  mine ; 
and  if  you  see  me  open  my  mouth  to  gaze  at  a  rouged 
woman  who  will  eat  up  our  provender  and  bring  us 
no  profit,  give  me  a  punch  with  your  scabbard.  What 
I  want  is  a  good  hearty  peasant  girl  from  Rouen,  who 
can  milk,  and  hoe,  and  cut  hay,  and  help  grind  in  the 
mill,  and  wait  on  Mademoiselle  de  Granville  without 
taking  fright." 

"  And  one  whom  I  can  bless  as  my  joint  heir  with 
you,  my  Jacques,"  said  the  young  commandant,  turn- 
ing a  pleasant  face  over  his  subaltern.  "  Ultimately 
you  will  be  my  heirs,  when  Ren6e  is  done  with  St. 
Bernard  and  the  other  islands  of  the  seigniory. 
Therefore  —  yes  —  I  want  a  very  good  girl  indeed, 
from  Rouen,  to  perpetuate  a  line  of  my  father's  peas- 
antry on  Adam  Dollard's  estate  in  New  Prance." 


12  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

"Yes,  m'sieur,"  responded  Jacques  dejectedly  as  he 
plodded  upward. 

It  grieved  him  that  a  light  leg  and  a  high  bright 
face  like  Bollard's  were  sworn  to  certain  destruction. 
His  pride  in  the  house  of  Des  Ormeaux  was  great, 
but  his  love  for  the  last  male  of  its  line  was  greater. 
This  Adam  Daulac,  popularly  called  Dollard,  was  too 
mighty  a  spirit  for  him  to  wrestle  with  5  so  all  his 
dissent  was  silent.  When  he  recalled  the  cavalier's 
gay  beginning  in  France,  he  could  not  join  it  to  the 
serious  purpose  of  the  same  man  in  New  France. 

Jacques  climbed  with  his  face  towards  the  ground, 
but  Dollard  gazed  over  the  St.  Lawrence's  upper  flood 
where  misty  headlands  were  touched  with  spring 
grayness.  The  river,  like  an  elongated  sea,  wound 
out  of  distances.  There  had  been  an  early  thaw  that 
year,  and  no  drowned  fragments  of  ice  toppled  about 
in  the  current. 

So  vast  a  reach  of  sight  was  like  the  beginning  of 
one  of  St.  John's  visions. 


n. 

LAVAL. 

HE  convent  of  the  Ursulines  had 
received  and  infolded  the  lambs 
sent  out  by  Louis  XIV.  to  help 
stock  his  wilderness.  This  con- 
vent,  though  substantially  built 
of  stone,  was  too  small  for  all  the  purposes  of  the  im- 
portation, and  a  larger  structure,  not  far  from  it,  had 
been  prepared  as  a  bazar  in  which  to  sort  and  arrange 
the  ship-load. 

The  good  nuns,  while  they  waited  on  their  crowd  of 
miscellaneous  guests,  took  no  notice  of  that  profane 
building ;  and  only  their  superior,  Mother  Mary  of  the 
Incarnation,  accompanied  and  marshaled  future  brides 
to  the  marriage  market. 

Squads  began  to  cross  the  court  soon  after  matins. 
The  girls  were  rested  by  one  night's  sleep  upon  land, 
the  balsam  odor  of  pines,  and  the  clear  air  on  Quebec 

n 


14  THE   ROMANCE    OF  LOLLARD. 

heights.  They  must  begin  taking  husbands  at  once. 
The  spring  sowing  was  near.  Time  and  the  chemistry 
of  nature  wait  on  no  woman's  caprices.  And  in  gen- 
eral there  was  little  coyness  among  these  girls.  They 
had  come  to  New  France  to  settle  themselves,  and 
naturally  wished  to  make  a  good  bargain  of  it.  Some 
faces  wore  the  stamp  of  vice,  but  these  were  the  ex- 
ceptions. A  stolid  herd  of  peasantry,  varying  in 
shape  and  complexion  but  little,  were  there  to  mother 
posterity  in  Canada.  Some  delicate  outlines  and  au- 
burn tresses  offset  the  monotony  of  somber  black  eyes 
and  stout  waists.  Clucking  all  the  way  across  the 
court  her  gentle  instructions  and  repressions,  Mother 
Mary  led  squad  after  squad. 

There  were  hilarious  girls,  girls  staring  with  large 
interest  at  the  oddities  of  this  new  world  while  they 
remarked  in  provincial  French,  and  girls  folding  their 
hands  about  their  crucifixes  and  looking  down.  The 
coquettish  had  arrayed  themselves  coquettishly,  and 
the  sober  had  folded  their  shoulder-collars  quite  high 
about  their  throats. 

"  But,"  dropped  Mother  Mary  into  the  ear  of  Madame 
Bourdon,  who  stood  at  the  mouth  of  the  matrimonial 
pen,  receiving  and  placing  each  squad,  "these  are 
mixed  goods ! "  To  which  frolicsome  remark  from  a 
strict  devotee  Madame  Bourdon  replied  with  assenting 
shrug. 


LAVAL.  15 

The  minds  of  both,  however,  quite  separated  the 
goods  on  display  from  one  item  of  the  cargo  then* 
standing  in  the  convent  parlor  before  the  real  bishop 
of  Canada.  This  item  was  a  slim  young  girl,  very 
high-bred  in  appearance,  richly  plain  in  apparel.  She 
held  a  long,  dull-colored  cloak  around  her  with  hands 
so  soft  and  white  of  flesh  that  one's  eye  traced  over 
and  over  the  flexible  curve  of  wrist  and  finger.  Her 
eyes  were  darkly  brown,  yet  they  had  a  tendency 
towards  topaz  lights  which  gave  them  moments  of 
absolute  yellowness ;  while  her  hair  had  a  dazzling 
white  quality  that  the  powders  of  a  later  period  could 
not  impart.  Bits  of  it  straying  from  her  high  roll  of 
curls  suggested  a  nimbus  around  the  forehead.  Her 
lower  face  was  full,  the  lips  most  delicately  round. 
Courage  and  tears  stood  forth  in  her  face  and  en- 
countered the  bishop. 

Francois  Xavier  de  Laval-Montmorency,  then  vicar- 
apostolic  of  the  province,  with  the  power  rather  than 
name  of  bishop,  was  a  tall  noble,  priestly  through 
entire  length  of  rusty  cassock  and  height  of  intel- 
lectual temples.  He  regarded  the  girl  with  bloodless 
patience.  He  had  a  large  nose,  which  drooped  towards 
a  mouth  cut  in  human  granite ;  his  lean,  fine  hands, 
wasted  by  self-abasement  and  voluntary  privations, 
were  smaller  than  a  woman's.  Though  not  yet  forty, 
he  looked  old,  and  his  little  black  skull-cup  aged  him 


16  THE  ROMANCE    OF  DOLLABD. 

more.  The  clear  Montmorency  eye  had  in  him  gained, 
from  asceticism  and  rigid  devotion,  a  brightness 
which  penetrated. 

His  young  relative's  presence  and  distress  annoyed 
him.  For  her  soul's  salvation,  he  would  have  borne 
unstinted  agony;  for  any  human  happiness  she  craved, 
he  was  not  prepared  to  lift  a  little  finger. 

"  Monseigneur,"  the  girl  began  their  interview,  "  I 
have  come  to  New  France." 

"  Strangely  escorted,"  said  Laval. 

"  The  reverend  father  cannot  be  thinking  of  Madame 
Bourdon :  Madame  Bourdon  was  the  best  of  duennas 
on  the  voyage." 

Laval  shook  his  chin,  and  for  reply  rested  a  glance 
upon  his  cousin's  attendant  as  a  type  of  the  company 
she  had  kept  on  ship-board.  The  attendant  was  a  sedate 
and  pretty  young  girl,  whose  black  hair  looked  pinched 
so  tightly  in  her  cap  as  to  draw  her  eyebrows  up,  while 
modesty  hung  upon  her  lashes  and  drew  her  lids  down. 
The  result  was  an  unusual  expanse  of  veined  eyelid. 

"  If  you  mean  Louise  Bibelot,"  the  young  lady  re- 
sponded, "  she  is  my  foster-sister.  Her  mother  nursed 
me.  Louise  bears  papers  from  the  cur  6  of  her  parish 
to  strangers,  but  she  should  hardly  need  such  pass- 
ports to  the  head  of  our  house." 

"In  brief,  daughter,"  said  Laval,  passing  to  the 
point,  "what  brings  you  to  this  savage  country  —  fit 
enough  to  be  the  arena  of  young  men,  or  of  those  who 


LAVAL.  17 

lay  self  upon  the  altar  of  the  Church,  but  most  unfit 
for  females  tenderly  brought  up  to  enjoy  the  pleasures 
of  the  world  T " 

"  Has  my  bringing-up  been  so  tender,  monseigneur  T 
I  have  passed  nearly  all  my  years  an  orphan  in  a 
convent." 

"  But  what  brings  you  to  New  France  !  " 

"I  came  to  appeal  against  your  successor  in  the 
estates." 

"My  successor  in  the  estates  has  nothing  to  do 
with  you." 

"  He  has  to  marry  me,  monseigneur." 

"Well,  and  has  he  not  made  a  statable  marriage 
for  you! " 

Her  face  burned  hotly. 

"  I  do  not  wish  him  to  make  any  marriage  for  me. 
I  refused  all  the  suitors  he  selected,  and  that  is  what 
determined  him  to  marry  me  to  the  last  one." 

"You  are  deeply  prejudiced  against  marriage t" 

"  Yes,  monseigneur." 

"  Against  any  marriage  f  " 

"Yes,  monseigneur." 

"  This  must  be  why  you  come  with  the  king's  girls 
to  the  marriage  market." 

Her  face  burned  in  deeper  flames. 

"  The  court  of  Louis,"  pursued  Laval,  "  would  fur- 
nish a  better  mate  for  you  than  any  wild  coureur  de 
bois  on  the  St.  Lawrence." 


18  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

"I  have  not  come  to  any  marriage  market,"  she 
stammered. 

"You  are  in  the  marriage  market,  Mademoiselle 
Laval.  His  Majesty,  in  his  care  for  New  France, 
sends  out  these  girls  to  mate  with  soldiers  and  peas- 
ants here.  It  is  good,  and  will  confirm  the  true  faith 
upon  the  soil.  What  I  cannot  understand  is  your 
presence  among  them." 

Her  face  sank  upon  her  breast. 

"  I  did  not  know  what  to  do." 

"  So,  being  at  a  loss,  you  took  shipping  to  the  ends 
of  the  earth  ?  " 

"Other  women  of  good  families  have  come  out  here." 

"As  holy  missionaries:  as  good  women  should 
come.  Do  you  intend  leading  such  a  life  of  self-sacri- 
fice ?  Is  that  your  purpose  ? "  said  Laval,  penetrating 
her  with  his  glance. 

Her  angelic  beauty,  drowned  in  red  shame,  could 
not  move  him.  "  Rash "  and  "  froward "  were  the 
terms  to  be  applied  to  her.  She  had  no  defense  except 
the  murmur : 

"I  thought  of  devoting  myself  to  a  holy  life. 
Everybody  was  then  willing  to  help  me  escape  the 
marriage.'7 

"  Were  there,  then,  no  convents  in  France  able  to 
bound  your  zeal  ?  Did  you  feel  pushed  to  make  this 
perilous  voyage  and  to  take  up  the  hard  life  of  saintly 
women  here  !  * 


You  are  deeply  prejudiced  against  marriage  ?  n 


LAVAL.  19 

"  I  am  myself  a  Laval-Montmorency,"  said  made- 
moiselle, rearing  her  neck  in  her  last  stronghold. 
"  The  Bishop  of  Petraea*  may  not  have  inherited  all 
the  heroism  of  the  present  generation." 

He  smiled  slowly;  his  mouth  was  not  facile  at 
relaxing. 

"  In  your  convent  they  failed  to  curb  the  tongue. 
This  step  that  you  have  taken  is,  I  fear,  a  very  rash 
one,  my  daughter/'  j 

"  Monseigneur,  I  am  a  young  girl  without  parents, 
but  with  fortune  enough  to  make  suitors  troublesome. 
How  can  I  take  none  but  wise  steps!  I  want  to  be 
let  alone  to  think  my  thoughts,  and  that  was  not  per- 
mitted me  in  Prance." 

"We  will  have  further  talk  to-morrow  and  next 
week,"  concluded  the  bishop.  "  We  will  see  how  your 
resolution  holds  out.  At  this  hour  I  go  to  the  gov- 
ernor's council  Receive  my  benediction." 

He  abruptly  lifted  his  hands  and  placed  them  above 
her  bowed  head  for  an  instant's  articulation  of  Latin, 
then  left  the  room.  As  long  as  his  elastic,  quick  tread 
could  be  heard,  Mademoiselle  Laval  stood  still.  It 
died  away.  She  turned  around  and  faced  her  compan- 
ion with  a  long  breath. 

"  That  is  over !  Louise,  do  you  think  after  fifteen 
years  of  convent  life  I  shall  cease  to  have  blood  in  met" 

"  Not  at  all,  Mademoiselle  Claire,"  responded  Louise 
literally.    "  As  long  as  we  live  we  have  blood." 
*  Another  of  Laval's  titles. 


20  THE  ROMANCE    OF  DOLLABD. 

"  He  is  terrible.'7 

"  He  is  such  a  holy  man,  mademoiselle ;  how  can  he 
help  being  terrible?  You  know  Madame  Bourdon 
told  us  he  ate  rotten  meat  to  mortify  his  flesh,  and 
his  servant  has  orders  never  to  make  his  bed  or  pick 
the  fleas  out  of  it.  I  myself  have  no  vocation  to  be 
holy,  mademoiselle.  I  so  much  like  being  comfort- 
able and  clean." 

Claire  sat  down  upon  the  only  bench  which  fur- 
nished ease  to  this  convent  parlor.  Louise  was  lean- 
ing against  the  stone  wall  near  her.  Such  luxuries  as 
came  out  from  France  at  that  date  were  not  for  nuns 
or  missionary  priests,  though  the  Church  was  then 
laying  deep  foundations  in  vast  grants  of  land  which 
have  enriched  it. 

"  I  do  not  love  the  dirty  side  of  holiness  myself ," 
said  Claire.  "  They  must  pick  the  fleas  out  of  my  bed 
if  I  endow  this  convent.  And  I  do  not  like  trotting, 
fussy  nuns  who  tell  tales  of  each  other  and  interfere 
with  one.  But,  O  Louise !  how  I  could  adore  a  saint  — 
a  saint  who  would  lead  me  in  some  high  act  which  I 
could  perform ! " 

"The  best  thing  next  to  a  live  saint,"  remarked 
Louise,  "  is  a  dead  saint's  bone  which  will  heal  mala- 
dies. But,  mademoiselle, —  the  Virgin  forgive  me !  — 
I  would  rather  see  my  own  mother  this  day  than  any 
saint,  alive  or  dead." 


LAVAL.  21 

"The  good  Marguerite!  How  strange  it  must 
seem  to  her  that  you  and  I  have  been  driven  this 
long  journey  —  if  the  dead  know  anything  about 
us." 

"  She  would  be  glad  I  was  in  the  ship  to  wait  upon 
you,  mademoiselle.  And  I  must  have  done  poorly  for 
myself  in  Rouen.  Our  cur6  said  great  matches  were 
made  out  here." 

"Now,  tell  me,  Louise,  have  you  the  courage  for 
this!" 

"  I  am  here  and  must  do  my  duty,  mademoiselle." 

"  But  can  you  marry  a  strange  man  this  evening  or 
to-morrow  morning  and  go  off  with  him  to  his  strange 
home,  to  bear  whatever  he  may  inflict  on  you!" 

"  My  mother  told  me,"  imparted  Louise,  gazing  at 
the  floor,  where  lay  two  or  three  rugs  made  by  the 
nuns  themselves,  "  that  the  worst  thing  about  a  man 
is  his  relatives.  And  if  he  lives  by  himself  in  the 
woods,  these  drawbacks  will  be  away." 

"  You  have  no  terror  of  the  man  himself  t " 

"Yes,  mademoiselle.  I  can  hardly  tell  at  sight 
whether  a  man  is  inclined  to  be  thrifty  or  not.  It 
would  be  cruel  to  come  so  far  and  then  fare  worse 
than  at  Rouen.  But  since  my  mother  is  not  here  to 
make  the  marriage,  I  must  do  the  best  I  can." 

"  H6,  Louise !  Never  will  you  see  me  bending  my 
neck  to  the  yoke ! n 


22  TEE  EOMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  marry,  made- 
moiselle. You  are  not  poor  Louise  Bibelot.7' 

"  I  meant  nothing  of  the  kind.  We  played  together, 
my  child.  Why  should  you  accuse  me  of  a  taunt?  — 
me  who  have  so  little  command  of  my  own  fortune 
that  I  cannot  lay  down  a  dozen  gold  pieces  to  your 
dower.  No!  I  have  passed  the  ordeal  of  meeting 
the  bishop.  My  spirits  rise.  I  am  glad  to  dip  in  this 
new  experience.  Do  you  know  that  if  they  send  me 
back  it  cannot  be  for  many  months  ?  One  who  comes 
to  this  colony  may  only  return  by  permission  of  the 
king.  The  bishop  himself  would  be  powerless  there. 
And  now  I  shall  hear  no  more  about  husbands ! " 

"  Louise  Bibelot/'  summoned  Mother  Mary,  appear- 
ing at  the  door, "  come  now  to  the  hall.  Mademoiselle 
Laval  will  dispense  with  thee.  The  young  men  are 
going  about  making  their  selections.  Come  and  get 
thee  a  good  honest  husband." 


m. 

THE  KING'S  DEMOISELLE. 

BETRAYING  in  her  face  some  disposition 
to  pry  into  the  customs  of  the  New 
World,  Claire  inquired: 

"  What  is  this  marriage  market  like, 
reverend  mother  f  * 
11  It  is  too  much  like  an  unholy  fair/'  answered 
Mother  Mary  of  the  Incarnation,  with  mild  severity. 
"  The  gallants  stalk  about  and  gaze  when  they  should 
be  closing  contracts.  The  girls  clatter  with  their 
tongues ;  they  seem  not  to  know  what  a  charm  lies 
in  silence." 

Mademoiselle    Laval    stood    up    and    closed    her 
cloak. 

"With  your  permission,  reverend  mother,  I  will 
walk  through  the  fair  with  you." 
"Not  you,  mademoiselle!" 
•WTiy  not!" 


24  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

"  You  are  not  here  to  select  a  husband.  The  holy 
cloister  is  thy  shelter.  Common  soldiers  and  peasant 
farmers  are  not  the  sights  for  thee  to  meet." 

"  Reverend  mother,  I  must  inure  myself  to  the 
rough  aspect  of  things  in  New  France,  for  it  is  prob- 
able I  am  tossed  here  to  stay.  You  and  Madame 
Bourdon  gaze  upon  these  evil  things,  and  my  poor 
Louise  is  exposed  to  them." 

"  I  do  not  say  they  are  evil.  I  only  say  they  are 
not  befitting  thee." 

"  Dear  and  reverend  mother,"  urged  Claire,  with  a 
cajoling  lift  of  the  chin  and  a  cooing  of  the  voice 
which  had  been  effective  with  other  abbesses,  "  when 
the  nausea  was  so  great  on  shipboard  and  poor  Louise 
nursed  me  so  well,  I  did  not  think  to  turn  my  back 
on  her  in  her  most  trying  ordeal." 

"  We  will  say  nothing  more,  mademoiselle,"  replied 
Mother  Mary,  shaking  her  black-bound  head.  "  With- 
out orders  from  his  reverence  the  vicar,  I  should 
never  think  of  taking  thee  into  the  marriage  market/7 
She  went  directly  away  with  Louise  Bibelot. 

As  Louise  left  the  door  she  cast  back  a  keen  look 
of  distress 'at  her  mistress.  It  was  merely  her  pro- 
test against  the  snapping  of  the  last  shred  which 
bound  her  to  France.  But  Claire  received  it  as  the 
appeal  of  dependent  to  superior;  and  more,  as  the 
appeal  of  maid  to  maid.  She  unlatched  a  swinging 
pane  no  larger  than  her  hand,  hinged  like  a  diminu- 


THE  KING'S  DEMOISELLE.  25 

tive  door  in  glass  of  the  window  overlooking  the 
court.  The  glass  was  poor  and  distorted,  and  this 
appeared  a  loop-hole  which  the  sisters  provided  for 
themselves  through  the  scale-armor  Canadian  winters 
set  upon  their  casement. 

"Poor  child!"  murmured  Claire  to  the  back  of 
Louise  Bibelot's  square  cap  as  Louise  trotted  beside 
the  gliding  nun.  She  did  not  estimate  the  amount  of 
impetus  which  Louise's  look  gave  to  other  impulses 
that  may  have  been  lurking  in  her  mind.  She  arose 
and  rebelled  with  the  usual  swiftness  of  her  erratic 
nature. 

Scarcely  had  nun  and  bride-elect  disappeared  with- 
in the  bazar  when  Claire  Laval  entered  behind  them. 
Mother  Mary  unconsciously  escorted  her  betwixt 
rows  of  suitors  and  haggling  damsels.  Louise  was 
to  be  placed  in  the  upper  hall  among  select  young 
women. 

Benches  were  provided  on  which  the  girls  sat, 
some  laughing  and  whispering,  others  block-like  as 
sphinxes,  except  that  they  moved  their  dark  eyes 
among  the  offering  husbands.  Sturdy  peasant  girls 
they  were,  and  all  of  them  in  demand,  for  they  could 
work  like  oxen.  If  there  was  uniformity  of  appear- 
ance among  them,  the  men  presented  contrast  enough. 

Stout  coureurs  de  bois  were  there,  half -renegades, 
who  had  made  the  woods  their  home  and  the  Indian 
their  foster-brother;  who  had  shirked  the  toils  of 


26  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

agriculture  and  depended  on  rod  and  gun:  loving 
lazy  wigwam  life  and.  the  dense  balmy  twilight  of 
summer  woods  which  steeped  them  in  pale  green  air ; 
loving  the  winter  trapping,  the  forbidden  beaver-skin, 
the  tracking  of  moose ;  loving  to  surprise  the  secrets 
of  the  pines,  to  catch  ground-hog  or  sable  at  lunch  on 
cast-off  moose-horns;  loving  to  stand  above  their 
knees  in  boiling  trout-streams  to  lure  those  angels 
of  the  water  with  well-cast  hook  as  they  lay  dream- 
ing in  palpitating  colors. 

Ever  thus  was  the  provincial  government  luring 
back  to  domestic  life  and  agriculture  the  coureurs  de 
bois  themselves.  They  were  paid  bounties  and  made 
tenants  on  seigniories  if  they  would  take  wives  of 
the  king's  girls  and  return  to  colonial  civilization. 
Most  of  these  young  men  retained  marks  of  their 
wild  life  in  Indian  trinket,  caribou  moccasin,  deer- 
skin leggin,  or  eagle  feathers  fastened  to  their  hats ; 
not  to  speak  of  those  marks  of  brief  Indian  marriages 
left  on  their  memories. 

The  habitant,  or  censitaire,  the  true  cultivator  of 
the  soil,  was  a  very  different  type.  Groups  from 
lower  seigniories,  from  Cap  Rouge  and  even  from 
Three  Rivers,  shuffled  about  selecting  partners 
They  had  none  of  the  audacity  of  their  renegade 
brethren,  and  their  decoration  was  less  pro- 
nounced, yet  they  appeared  to  please  the  girls  from 
France. 


THE  KING* 3  DEMOISELLE.  27 

The  most  successful  wooers  among  these  two  or 
three  hundred  wife-seekers,  however,  were  soldiers 
holding  grants  under  their  former  officers.  They 
pushed  ahead  of  the  slow  habitant,  and  held  their 
rights  above  the  rights  of  any  bush-ranger.  Their 
minds  were  made  up  at  a  glance,  and  their  proposals 
followed  with  military  directness.  So  prompt  and 
brief  were  their  measures  that  couples  were  formed 
in  a  line  for  a  march  to  the  altar.  Thirty  at  a  time 
were  paired  and  mustered  upon  the  world  by  notary 
and  priest. 

The  notary  had  his  small  table,  his  ink-horn  and 
quills,  his  books,  papers,  and  assistant  scrivener,  in 
an  angle  of  the  lower  hall.  To  find  the  priest  it  was 
necessary  to  open  a  door  into  a  temporary  chapel 
created  in  one  of  those  closet-like  offshoots  which 
people  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries 
dignified  by  the  name  of  rooms.  Here  fifteen  pairs 
at  a  time  were  packed,  their  breath  making  a  per- 
ceptible cloud  in  the  chill,  stone-inclosed  air  as  the 
long  ceremony  proceeded. 

Madame  Bourdon  rustled  from  upper  to  lower  hall, 
repeating  instructions  to  her  charges.  They  were 
not  forced  to  accept  any  offer  which  did  not  please 
them.  They  might  question  a  suitor.  And  in  some 
cases  their  questioning  seemed  exhaustive;  for 
though  a  sacred  propriety  radiated  throughout  the 
bazar  from  nun  and  matron,  here  and  there  a  young 


28  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

man  sat  on  a  bench  beside  a  damsel,  holding  her 
hand  and  pressing  it  and  his  suit. 

The  sun  penetrated  dust  and  cobweb  on  narrow 
high  windows,  finding  through  one  a  stone  fire-place 
and  wasting  the  light  of  several  logs  which  lay  piled 
in  stages  of  roseate  coals  and  sap-sobbing  wood-rind. 

Madame  Bourdon  encountered  Claire  with  sur- 
prise; but  as  she  followed  Mother  Mary,  it  was 
evident  that  the  abbess  sanctioned  her  presence,  so 
nothing  was  to  be  said  on  the  subject.  In  all  that 
buzz  and  trampling  the  abbess  could  not  hear  her 
demoiselle's  silken  step,  and  she  was  herself  a  woman 
who  never  turned  gazing  about,  but  kept  her  modest 
eyes  cast  down  as  she  advanced. 

The  instant  that  Claire  entered  this  lower  hall  she 
recoiled,  feeling  degraded  in  the  results  of  her  dis- 
obedience. She  shaded  her  face.  But  the  pride  and 
stubbornness  of  her  blood  held  her  to  her  ground, 
though  from  mouth  to  mouth  flew  a  whispered  sen- 
tence, and  she  heard  it,  comprehending  how  current 
tattle  was  misrepresenting  her  in  New  France. 

"The  king's  demoiselle!  Via!  See  you?  There 
she  goes  to  choose  her  husband  —  the  king's  de- 
moiselle ! " 


IV. 
THE   HUSBAND. 

CHATEAU  of  St.  Louis  though  the  gov- 
ernment building  of  Canada  was  called, 
it  had  none  of  the  substantial  strength 
of  Jesuit  and  Ursuline  possessions ;  but 
was  a  low,  wooden  structure,  roofed  with  shingles, 
and  formed  one  side  of  the  fort.  Galleries,  or  pillared 
porches,  with  which  Latin  stock  love  to  surround 
themselves  in  any  climate,  were  built  at  the  front, 
whence  the  governor  could  look  down  many  sheer 
feet  at  the  cabins  of  Lower  Town. 

Dollard  paused  before  entering  the  Chateau  of  St. 
Louis  to  say  to  Jacques  Goffinet  : 

"Will  you  not  push  your  business  now  while  I 
attend  to  mine,  Jacques!  Yonder  is  the  building 
you  want  to  enter.  Go  and  examine  the  cargo, 
and  I  will  be  there  to  help  you  single  out  your 
bale." 


30  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLABD. 

"  M7sieur,  unless  these  are  orders,  I  will  wait  here 
for  you.  I  am  not  in  a  hurry  to  trot  myself  before  a 
hundred  and  fifty  women.77 

"  But  hurry  you  must/7  said  Bollard,  laughing.  "  I 
have  no  time  to  spare  Quebec,  and  you  know  the  con- 
sequences if  we  give  our  Indians  a  chance  to  get  as 
drunk  as  they  can.77 

"Dispatch  is  the  word,  Sieur  des  Ormeaux.  I711 
attack  the  first  woman  in  the  hall  if  you  but  stand  by 
to  give  the  word  of  command.77 

"  Very  well,  then.  But  you  will  remember,  not  a 
breath  of  my  sworn  purpose  to  any  of  the  varlets 
within  here.77 

Jacques  pulled  off  his  cap,  and  holding  it  in  air 
stood  in  the  mute  attitude  of  taking  an  oath.  Dollard 
flung  his  fingers  backward,  dismissing  the  subject. 

They  entered  the  CMteau  of  St.  Louis,  where 
Jacques  waited  in  an  anteroom  among  noisy  valets 
and  men-at-arms.  He  was  put  to  question  by  the 
governors  joking,  card-playing  servants  as  soon  as 
they  understood  that  he  was  from  Montreal ;  but  he 
said  little,  and  sat  in  lowering  suspense  until  Dollard 
came  out  of  the  council-chamber. 

What  Dollard7s  brief  business  was  with  the  gov- 
ernor of  Canada  has  never  been  set  down.  That  it 
held  importance  either  for  himself  or  for  the  enter- 
prise he  had  in  hand  is  evident  from  his  making  a 
perilous  journey  in  the  midst  of  Indian  alarms  5  but 


THE  HCTSBAND.  31 

that  he  made  no  mention  of  this  enterprise  to  the 
governor  is  also  evident,  from  the  fact  that  it  was 
completed  before  Quebec  had  even  known  of  it.  His 
garrison  at  Montreal  and  the  sub-governor  Maison- 
neuve  may  have  known  why  he  made  this  voyage, 
which  he  accomplished  in  the  astonishing  space  of 
ten  days,  both  output  and  return.  This  century  sep- 
arates Montreal  and  Quebec  by  a  single  night's  steam- 
ing. But  voyagers  then  going  up-stream  sometimes 
hovered  two  weeks  on  the  way.  Dollard  had  for  his 
oarsmen  four  stout  Huron  Indians,  full  of  river  skill, 
knowing  the  St.  Lawrence  like  a  brother.  He  re- 
turned through  the  anteroom,  his  visionary  face  un- 
changed by  high  company,  and  with  Jacques  at  his 
heels  walked  briskly  across  Quebec  Heights. 

Spread  gloriously  before  him  was  St.  Lawrence's 
lower  flood,  parted  by  the  island  of  Orleans.  The  rock 
palisades  of  Levi  looked  purple  even  under  the  fore- 
noon sunlight.  He  could  have  turned  his  head  over 
his  left  shoulder  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  those  slopes 
of  Abraham  where  the  French  were  to  lose  Canada 
after  he  had  given  himself  to  her  welfare.  Not  look- 
ing over  his  shoulder,  but  straight  ahead,  he  en- 
countered the  mightiest  priest  in  New  France,  stout 
Dollier  de  Casson,  head  of  the  order  of  St.  Sulpice  in 
Montreal.  His  rosy  face  shone  full  of  good-will. 
There  shone,  also,  the  record  of  hardy,  desperate 
mission  work,  jovial  famine,  and  high  forgetfulness 


,'J2  I  UK   ROMANCE   OF  DOLLARD. 

of  Dollier  de  Casson.  His  cassock  sat  on  him  like  a 
Roman  toga,  masculine  in  every  line.  He  took  Dol- 
lard's  hand  and  floated  him  in  a  flood-tide  of  good 
feeling  while  they  spoke  together  an  instant 

"You  here,  commandant!  Where  are  the  Iroquoist" 

"Not  yet  at  Quebec." 

"  But  there  have  been  alarms.  The  people  around 
Ste.  Anne's  •  are  said  to  be  starting  to  the  fort.'' 

"Jacques,"  exclaimed  Dollard,  " you  must  hasten 
this  affair  of  your  marriage.  We  are  here  too  long." 

"  The  sun  is  scarce  an  hour  higher  than  when  we 
landed,"  muttered  Jacques. 

"Does  n't  the  king  ship  enough  maids  to  Mont- 
real t*  inquired  the  priest,  smiling  at  Jacques's 
downcast  figure.  "  It  is  a  strain  on  loyalty  when  a 
bachelor  has  to  travel  so  far  to  wive  himself,  to  say 
nothing  of  putting  a  scandal  upon  our  own  town,  to 
the  glorifying  of  Quebec." 

"  I  came  with  my  seignior,"  muttered  the  censitaire, 
"  and  this  ship-load  was  promised  from  Rouen." 

"  My  bride  is  my  sword,"  said  Dollard.  "  The  poor 
lad  may  perhaps  find  one  as  sharp.  Anyhow,  he  must 
grab  his  Sabine  and  be  gone." 

"  Come,  my  son,"  rallied  Father  de  Casson,  dropping 
a  hand  on  the  subaltern's  shoulder,  "  marriage  is  an 

*  Ste.  Anne  de  Beauprt,  twenty  miles  east  of  Quebec.  "  The 
favorite  saint  appears  to  be  Ste.  Anne,  whose  name  appears 
constantly  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence."  [J.  G.  Bourinot.] 


THE  HUSBAND.  33 

honorable  state,  and  the  risks  of  it  are  surely  no 
worse  than  we  take  daily  with  the  Iroquois.  Plnck 
up  heart,  piek  thee  a  fine,  stout,  black-eyed  maid,  and 
if  the  king's  priest  have  his  hands  over-full  to  make 
that  haste  which  the  commandant  desires,  bring  her 
to  the  cathedral  presently,  and  there  will  I  join  ye. 
And  thus  will  Montreal  Sulpitians  steal  one  church 
service  out  of  the  hands  of  Quebec  Jesuits ! " 

"Are  you  returning  directly  up  river,  father f* 
inquired  Dollard  over  Jacques's  mumble. 

"Yes,  my  son;  but  this  day  only  so  far  as  the 
remote  edge  of  one  of  our  parishes,  lying  this  side 
of  Three  Rivers." 

•  \Vhy  not  go  in  our  company  t    It  will  be  safer." 

"  Much  safer,*  said  Dollier  de  Casson.  "  I  have 
only  my  servant  who  rows  the  boat." 

"  I  know  you  are  a  company  of  men  in  yourself, 
father." 

"Military  escort  is  a  luxury  we  priests  esteem 
when  we  can  get  it,  my  son.  Do  you  leave  at 
once  t " 

"  As  soon  as  Jacques's  business  is  over.  We  shall 
find  you,  then,  in  Notre  Damet" 

"  In  Notre  Dame." 

Dollier  de  Casson  made  the  sign  of  benediction, 
and  let  them  pass. 

When  Dollard  strode  into  the  lower  bazar  it  was 
boiling  in  turmoil  around  two  wrangling  men  who 


34  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

had  laid  claim  on  one  maid.  The  most  placid  girls 
from  the  remotest  benches  left  their  seats  to  tiptoe 
and  look  over  each  other's  shoulders  at  the  demure 
prize,  who,  though  she  kept  her  eyes  upon  the  floor 
and  tried  to  withdraw  her  wrists  from  both  suitors, 
laughed  slyly. 

"It  is  that  Madeleine,"  the  outer  girls  who  were 
not  quarreled  over  whispered  to  each  other  with 
shrugs.  But  all  the  men  in  delight  urged  on  the 
fray,  uttering  partisan  cries,  "She  is  thine,  brave 
Picot ! "  "  Keep  to  thy  rights,  my  little  Jean  Debois ! " 
to  the  distress  of  Madame  Bourdon.  She  spread  her 
hands  before  the  combatants,  she  commanded  them 
to  be  at  peace  and  hear  her,  but  they  would  not  have 
her  for  their  Solomon. 

"I  made  my  proposals,  madame,"  cried  one.  "I 
but  stepped  to  the  notary's  table  an  instant,  when 
comes  this  renegade  from  the  woods  and  snatches 
my  bride.  Madame,  he  hath  no  second  pair  of 
leather  breeches.  Is  he  a  fit  man  to  espouse  a  wife  ? 
The  king  must  needs  support  his  family.  Ah,  let  me 
get  at  thee  with  my  fist,  thou  hound  of  Indian  camps ! " 

"  Come  on,  peasant,75  swelled  the  coureur  de  bois. 
"  I  '11  show  thee  how  to  ruffle  at  thy  master.  Made- 
moiselle has  taken  me  for  her  husband.  She  but 
engaged  thee  as  a  servant." 

The  two  men  sprang  at  each  other,  but  were  re- 
strained by  their  delighted  companions. 


THE  HUSBAND.  35 

"Holy  saints !"  gasped  Madame  Bourdon,  "must 
the  governor  be  sent  for  to  silence  these  rioters  f  My 
good  men,  there  are  a  hundred  and  fifty  girls  to 
choose  from." 

"  I  have  chosen  this  one,"  hissed  red  Picot. 

"I  have  chosen  this  one/'  scowled  black  Jean 
Debois. 

"  Now  thou  seest,"  said  Madame  Bourdon,  present- 
ing her  homily  to  the  spectators,  "  the  evil  of  levity 
in  girls." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  urged  Picot  at  the  right  ear  of  the 
culprit,  who  still  smilingly  gazed  down  her  cheeks, 
"  I  have  the  most  excellent  grant  in  New  Prance. 
There  is  the  mill  of  the  seignior.  And  our  priest 
comes  much  oftener  than  is  the  case  in  up-river 
cdtes." 

"Mademoiselle,"  whispered  the  coureur  de  bois  at 
her  other  ear,  "  thou  hast  the  prettiest  face  in  the  hall. 
Wilt  thou  deck  that  clod-turner's  hut  with  it  when  a 
man  of  spirit  wooes  thee  T  The  choice  is  simply  this : 
to  yoke  thee  to  an  ox,  or  mate  with  a  trader  who 
can  bring  wealth  out  of  the  woods  when  the  ground 
fails." 

"And  an  Indian  wife  from  every  village,"  blazed 
Picot. 

"Even  there  thou  couldst  never  find  thee  one!" 
retorted  Jean  Debois.  They  menaced  each  other 
again. 


36  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

"  Choose  now  between  these  two  men,"  said  Madame 
Bourdon,  sternly.  "  Must  the  garrison  of  the  fort  be 
brought  hither  to  arrest  them  ?  " 

The  girl  lifted  her  eyes  as  a  young  soldier  hurriedly 
entered  the  outer  door,  carrying  a  parcel.  He  wore 
several  long  pistols,  and  was  deeply  scarred  across  the 
nose.  Pushing  through  to  the  object  of  dispute,  he 
shook  some  merchandise  out  of  his  bundle  and  threw 
it  into  her  hands  as  she  met  him. 

"  This  is  my  husband,"  the  bashful  maid  said  to 
Madame  Bourdon ;  "  I  promised  him  before  the  others 
spoke,  and  he  had  but  gone  to  the  merchant's.77 

The  soldier  stared  at  the  beaten  suitors ;  he  led  his 
bride  to  the  notary. 

All  around  the  hall  laughter  rising  to  a  shout  drove 
Picot  and  Jean  Debois  out  of  the  door  through  which 
the  soldier  had  come  in,  the  wood-ranger  bearing 
himself  in  retreat  with  even  less  bravado  than  the 
habitant. 

"  Was  there  ever  such  improvidence  as  among  our 
settlers ! 77  sighed  Madame  Bourdon,  feeling  her  un- 
vented  disapproval  take  other  channels  as  she  gazed 
after  the  couple  seeking  marriage.  "  They  spend  their 
last  coin  for  finery  that  they  may  deck  out  their  wed- 
ding, and  begin  life  on  the  king7s  bounty.  But  who 
could  expect  a  jilt  and  trifler  to  counsel  her  husband 
to  any  kind  of  prudence  ? 77 

Dollard  presented  his  man's  credentials  to  Madame 
Bourdon,  and  she  heard  with  satisfaction  of  their 


"  Choose  now  between  these  two  men,"  said 
Madame  Bourdon,  sternly. 


THE  HUSBAND.  37 

haste.  It  was  evident  that  the  best  of  the  cargo 
would  be  demanded  by  this  suitor ;  so  she  led  them 
up  one  of  those  pinched  and  twisted  staircases  in 
which  early  builders  on  this  continent  seemed  to  take 
delight.  Above  this  uneasy  ascent  were  the  outer 
vestibule,  where  bride  traffic  went  on  as  briskly  as 
below,  and  an  inner  sanctum,  the  counterpart  of 
the  first  flagged  hall,  to  which  the  cream  of  the 
French  importation  had  risen. 

"  Here  are  excellent  girls,"  said  Madame  Bourdon, 
spreading  her  hands  to  include  the  collection.  "  They 
bring  the  best  of  papers  from  the  cur6s  of  their  own 
parishes." 

In  this  hall  the  cobwebby  dimness,  the  log-fire,  and 
the  waiting  figures  seemed  to  repeat  what  the  seekers 
had  glanced  through  below;  though  there  was  less 
noise,  and  the  suitors  seemed  more  anxious. 

"Here's  your  fate,  Jacques,"  whispered  Dollard, 
indicating  the  fattest  maid  of  the  inclosure,  who  sat 
in  peaceful  slumber  with  a  purr  like  a  contented  cat. 

Jacques,  carrying  his  cap  in  both  hands,  craned 
around  Dollard. 

"  No,  m'sieur.  She 's  a  fine  creature  to  look  at,  but 
a  man  must  not  wed  for  his  eyes  alone.  His  stomach 
craves  a  wife  that  will  not  doze  by  his  fire  and  let  the 
soup  burn." 

"  Here,  then,  my  child,  behold  the  other  extreme. 
What  activity  must  be  embodied  in  that  nymph 
watching  us  from  the  corner!" 


38  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLAED. 

"  Holy  saints,  m'sieur  !  There  be  not  eels  enough 
in  the  St.  Lawrence  to  fill  her  ribs  and  cover  her 
hulk.  I  have  a  low-spirited  turn,  m'sieur,  but  not 
to  the  length  of  putting  up  a  death's-head  in  my 
kitchen.  A  man's  feelings  go  against  bones.7' 

"These  girls  here  have  been  instructed/7  said 
Madame  Bourdon  at  the  ear  of  the  suitor.  "  These 
girls  are  not  canaille  from  the  streets  of  Paris.77 

"  Do  they  come  from  Rouen,  madame  ? 7'  inquired 
Jacques. 

"  Some  of  them  came  from  Rouen.  See !  Here  is  a 
girl  from  Rouen  at  this  end  of  the  room.77 

"  Now,  m'sieur,77  whispered  Bollard's  vassal,  squeez- 
ing his  cap  in  agitated  hands,  "  I  shall  have  to  make 
my  proposals.  I  see  the  girl.  Will  you  have  the 
goodness  to  tell  me  how  I  must  begin?7' 

"  First,  hold  up  your  head  as  if  about  to  salute 
your  military  superior." 

"  M'sieur,  it  would  never  do  to  call  a  woman  your 
military  superior.77 

"  Then  say  to  her,  i  Mademoiselle,  you  are  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  the  world.7  7; 

Again  Jacques  shook  his  head. 

"  Pardon,  m7sieur.  You  have  had  experience,  but 
you  never  had  to  marry  one  of  them  and  take  the 
consequences  of  your  fair  talk.  I  wish  to  be  cautious. 
Perhaps  if  I  allow  her  the  first  shot  in  this  business 
she  may  yield  me  the  last  word  hereafter.* 


THE  HUSBAND.  39 

So,  following  Madame  Bourdon's  beckoning  hand, 
he  made  his  shamefaced  way  towards  Louise  Bibelot. 
Mother  Mary  stood  beside  the  log-fire  some  distance 
away,  in  the  act  of  administering  dignified  rebuke  to 
a  girl  in  a  long  mantle,  who,  with  her  back  turned 
to  the  hall,  heard  the  abbess  in  silence.  When  the 
abbess  moved  away  in  stately  dudgeon,  the  girl  kept 
her  place  as  if  in  reverie,  her  fair,  unusual  hand 
stretched  towards  the  fire. 

"  Here,  Louise  Bibelot,"  said  the  good  shepherdess 
of  the  king's  flock,  "  comes  Jacques  Goffinet  to  seek  a 
wife  —  Jacques  Gofflnet,  recommended  by  Monsieur 
Daulac,  the  Sieur  des  Ormeaux,  commandant  of  the 
fort  at  Montreal,  and  seignior  of  the  islands  about 
St.  Bernard." 

Louise  made  her  reverence  to  Madame  Bourdon 
and  the  suitor,  and  Jacques  held  his  cap  in  tense 
fists.  He  thought  regretfully  of  Turkish  battle-fields 
which  he  had  escaped.  Louise  swept  him  in  one 
black-eyed  look  terminating  on  her  folded  hands,  and 
he  repented  ever  coming  to  New  France  at  all. 

The  pair  were  left  to  court.  Around  them  arose 
murmur  and  tinkle  of  voices,  the  tread  of  passing 
feet,  and  the  bolder  noise  of  the  lower  hall,  to  which 
Madame  Bourdon  hastened  back  that  she  might 
repress  a  too-frolic  Cupid. 

Jacques  noted  Louise's  trim  apparel,  her  nicely 
kept  hair  and  excellent  red  lips.  But  she  asserted 


40  THE  ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

no  claim  to  the  first  word,  and  after  five  leaden 
minutes  he  began  to  fear  she  did  not  want  to  talk 
to  him  at  all.  This  would  be  a  calamity,  and,  more- 
over, a  waste  of  the  commandant's  time.  It  seemed 
that  Jacques  must  himself  put  forth  the  first  word, 
and  he  suffered  in  the  act  of  creating  something  to 
say.  But  out  of  this  chaotic  darkness  a  luminous 
thought  streamed  across  his  brain  like  the  silent  flash 
of  the  northern  aurora. 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  like  cabbage,  is  it  not  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  monsieur,"  responded  Louise,  without  lift- 
ing her  eyes. 

"  Cabbage  is  a  very  good  vegetable. — My  seignior 
is  in  somewhat  of  a  hurry.  We  must  be  married  and 
start  back  to  Montreal  directly.  Do  you  wish  to  be 
married  t " 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"I,  in  fact,  wish  it  myself.  When  you  go  as  a 
soldier  you  don't  want  a  wife.  But  when  you  settle 
down  en  censive,  then,  mademoiselle,  it  is  convenient 
to  have  a  woman  to  work  and  help  dig." 

"Have  you  a  house  and  farm,  monsieur?"  mur- 
mured Louise. 

Jacques  spread  his  hands,  the  cap  pendant  from 
one  of  them. 

"I  have  the  island  of  St.  Bernard  under  my 
seignior,  mademoiselle.  It  is  a  vast  estate,  almost  a 
league  in  extent.  The  house  is  a  mansion  of  stone, 


THE  HUSBAND.  41 

mademoiselle,  strong  as  a  fort,  and  equal  to  some 
castles  in  Rouen.  You  come  from  Rouen,  mademoi- 
selle!" 

"  Yes,  monsieur ." 

"  And  there  is  Mademoiselle  de  Granville,  my  lord's 
half-sister,  but  nobody  else  to  wait  upon.  For  Sieur 
des  Onneaux,  when  not  at  his  fortress,  may  go  on 
expeditions.  We  never  yet  took  refuge  at  Montreal 
from  the  Indians,  so  strong  is  St.  Bernard.  The 
house  is  of  rock  cemented  together  and  built  against 
a  rock.  Do  you  ever  drink  brandy,  mademoiselle  t " 

"  J,  monsieur !  Never  in  my  life ! " 

"  That  must  be  a  good  thing  in  a  woman,"  com- 
mented Jacques,  with  a  nod  of  satisfaction. 

"Are  you  at  all  thriftless  or  lazy,  monsieur!"  the 
demure  girl  took  her  turn  to  inquire. 

"No,  mademoiselle;  I  make  my  clothes  do  year 
after  year.  And  had  you  seen  the  frozen  fish  and 
eels,  the  venison,  the  cabbage,  beets,  and  onions  I 
stored  in  our  cellar  for  winter,  you  would  not  ask  if 
I  am  lazy." 

Louise  smiled  her  bashful  approval  upon  him,  and 
said  in  explanation : 

"  I  should  not  like  a  thriftless,  lazy  husband." 

"  Mademoiselle,  we  are  cut  out  of  the  same  caribou- 
skin,  and  match  like  a  pair  of  moccasins.  Shall  we 
go  to  the  notary!" 

"  If  you  wish,  monsieur." 


42  THE   ROMANCE    OF  BOLLARD. 

"  You  accept  me  as  your  husband  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,  monsieur." 

"  Then  let  us  get  married.    I  forget  your  name." 

"  Louise  Bibelot.77 

"My  name  is  Jacques  Goffinet.  When  we  are 
married  we  can  get  better  acquainted." 

Flushed  with  success,  Jacques  turned  to  display  a 
signal  of  victory  to  his  seignior,  and  was  astounded 
to  see  Dollard  standing  by  the  fire-place  in  earnest 
conversation  with  a  beautiful  girl.  It  was  evident 
that  no  further  countenance  and  support  could  be 
expected  from  Dollard.  So  Jacques  took  his  bride 
in  tow  as  a  tug  may  now  be  seen  guiding  some  yacht 
of  goodly  proportions  through  a  crowded  harbor,  and 
set  out  to  find  the  notary. 

When  Dollard  fell  into  an  easy  posture  to  enjoy 
his  man's  courtship,  he  cast  a  preliminary  glance 
about  the  hall,  that  other  amusing  things  might  not 
escape  him.  At  once  his  attitude  became  tense,  his 
ears  buzzed,  and  the  blood  rose  like  wine  to  his  head. 
The  woman  of  his  constant  thoughts  was  warming 
her  hand  at  the  fire.  He  could  not  be  mistaken; 
there  was  nothing  else  like  the  glory  of  her  youthful 
white  hair  in  either  hemisphere;  and  without  an 
instants  hesitation  he  brought  himself  before  her, 
bowing,  hat  in  hand,  until  his  plume  lay  on  the 
floor. 

The  demoiselle  made  a  like  stately  obeisance. 


THE  HUSBAND.  43 

Dumb,  then,  they  stood,  just  as  the  peasant  couple 
had  done;  but  in  this  case  too  bounteous  speech 
choked  itself.  It  seemed  to  both  that  their  hearts 
beat  aloud.  Dollard  felt  himself  vibrate  from  head 
to  foot  with  the  action  of  his  blood- valves.  The 
pair  looked  up  and  stammered  to  cover  such  noise 
within,  speaking  together,  and  instantly  begged  each 
other's  pardon,  then  looked  down  and  were  silent 
again. 

"  How  is  it  possible,"  said  Dollard,  carefully  modu- 
lating his  voice,  "that  I  see  you  here,  Mademoiselle 
Laval !» 

"  The  Sieur  des  Ormeaux  takes  me  for  a  king's 
girl !  How  is  it  possible  I  see  you  here,  monsieur  t" 

"  I  came  to  keep  my  man  in  countenance,  while  he 
picked  himself  a  wife.  This  instant  is  a  drop  from 
Paradise !" 

"Monsieur  is  easily  satisfied  if  he  can  call  such 
surroundings  a  paradise/1  said  Claire,  smiling  at  the 
grim  hall. 

"  Mademoiselle,  when  did  you  come  from  France  t " 

"  Yesterday  we  arrived,  Sieur  des  Ormeaux." 

"  Then  you  came  in  the  king's  ship  t n 

"  Without  a  doubt." 

"  This  is  wonderful !  I  thought  you  three  thousand 
miles  away  from  me." 

"  Did  you  honor  me  with  a  thought  at  the  other 
extremity  of  that  distance!"  she  asked  carelessly, 


44  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

pushing  towards  the  fire  with  the  point  of  her  foot 
a  bit  of  bark  which  its  own  steam  had  burst  off 
a  log. 

"  Claire  ! 7?  he  said,  pressing  his  hand  on  his  eyes. 

"Monsieur,  the  abbess  is  near,"  the  young  lady 
responded  in  tremor. 

"  You  are  not  here  to  be  a  nun  ? 7? 

"Why  not?" 

"  But  are  you  ?  n 

"  Monsieur,  you  have  penetration.  That  is  said  to 
be  my  errand.77 

"  But  why  do  you  come  to  New  France  ? " 

"  That  is  what  the  bishop  said.  I  hope  we  may 
choose  our  convents,  we  poor  nuns.77 

"  O  Claire !  I  cannot  endure  this/7  Dollard  sobbed 
in  his  throat.  It  was  a  hoarse  note  of  masculine 
anguish,  but  the  girl  observed  him  with  radiant 
eyes. 

"  I  never  was  a  man  fit  to  touch  the  tip  of  your 
white  finger.  Mademoiselle,  have  you  forgotten  those 
messages  that  I  sent  you  by  my  cousin  when  she  was 
with  you  at  the  convent  ? 77 

"  It  was  very  improper,  Sieur  des  Ormeaux.  Yes, 
indeed,  I  have  forgotten  every  one  of  them.77 

"  You  have  not  thought  of  me,  and  I  have  lived  on 
thoughts  of  you.  I  hoped  to  ennoble  myself  in  your 
eyes  —  and  you  are  thrown  in  my  way  to  turn  me 
mad  at  the  last  instant ! 7? 


THE  HUSBAND.  45 

"  Forgive  my  misfortune  which  throws  me  in  your 
way,  monsieur,"  she  said  sedately.  "  I  am  driven  here 
a  f  ugitive." 

"  From  what 1  "  Bollard's  hand  caught  the  hilt  of 
his  sword. 

"  From  something  very  unpleasant.  In  fact,  from 
marriage." 

His  face  cleared,  and  he  laughed  aloud  with  satis- 
faction. 

"  Do  you  hate  marriage  t w 

"I  detest  if 

"  You  came  to  live  under  the  bishop's  protection  f " 

"  His  penance  and  discipline,  you  mean." 

"  This  is  a  rude  country  for  you.  How  often  have 
I  presumed  to  plan  your  life  and  mine  together,  ar- 
ranging the  minutest  points  of  our  perfect  happiness ! 
I  have  loved  you  and  been  yours  since  the  first  mo- 
ment I  saw  you.  And  how  I  have  followed  your 
abbess's  carriage  when  it  contained  you!  I  was  to 
distinguish  myself  in  military  service,  and  become 
able  to  demand  your  hand  of  your  guardian.  But 
that  takes  so  long !  There  was  a  rumor  that  you  were 
to  be  married.  Angel !  I  could  throw  myself  on  the 
floor  with  my  cheek  against  your  foot !  * 

"  O  Sieur  des  Ormeaux !  do  not  say  that.  It  is  a 
surprise  to  find  you  in  this  country,  though  it  is  very 
natural  that  you  should  be  here.  I  must  now  go  back 
to  the  convent." 


46  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

"  Wait.  Do  not  go  for  a  moment.  Let  me  speak 
to  you.  Remember  how  long  I  have  done  without 
seeing  you." 

"  Oh,  I  only  came  in  a  moment  because  I  was 
curious." 

"  Then  stay  a  moment  because  you  are  merciful." 

"  But  I  must  go  back  to  the  convent,  Sieur  des  Or- 
meaux,"  she  urged,  her  throat  swelling,  her  face  filling 
with  blood.  "  Because " 

"  Because  what  f " 

"Because  I  must  go  back  to  the  convent.  It  is 
the  best  place  for  me,  monsieur.  And  you  will  soon 
forget." 

The  two  poor  things  stood  trembling,  though  Dol- 
lard's  face  gathered  splendor. 

"  Claire,  you  are  mine.  You  know  that  you  are 
mine!  This  is  love!  O  saints!" 

He  threw  himself  on  his  knees  before  her  without 
a  thought  of  any  spectator,  his  sword  clanking  against 
the  flags  of  the  hearth. 

"  Monsieur " 

"  Say  '  My  husband ! ' " 

"  My  husband,"  she  did  whisper ;  and  at  that  word 
he  rose  up  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 


V. 

JACQUES  HAS  SCEUPLES. 

ILL  other  business  in  the  hall  was  sus- 
pended. Perhaps  the  fire  and  success 
of  Dollard's  courtship  kindled  envy 
in  ruder  breasts;  but  in  Mother 
Mary's  it  kindled  that  beacon  which 
a  vestal  keeps  ready  against  the  inroads  of  the  clois- 
ter's despoilers. 

Pallid  and  stately  she  placed  herself  before  the  pair. 
And  during  this  conference  she  made  dabs  forward 
with  her  head,  as  a  poor  hen  may  be  seen  to  do  when 
the  hawk  has  stolen  her  chicken. 

"  We  did  not  understand,  monsieur,  that  the  com- 
mandant of  Montreal  sought  a  wife." 

"Reverend  mother,"  said  Dollard,  shielding  the 
side  of  Claire's  face  with  his  hand  as  he  held  her  head 
against  him,  "  I  never  dared  seek  such  a  blessing  as 
this.  The  saints  have  given  it  to  me." 

47 


48  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

"  But  mademoiselle  is  not  here  to  be  married, 
monsieur." 

"  I  understand  that,  reverend  mother." 

"  And  do  you  understand  that  she  is  the  cousin  of 
the  Bishop  of  New  France  ?* 

"  All  Mademoiselle  Laval's  history  is  known  to  me. 
I  have  adored  her  a  life-time." 

"  And  was  it  to  meet  this  young  seignior,  made- 
moiselle, that  you  insisted  on  coming  into  the  wife 
market  ? " 

"  Reverend  mother,"  replied  Dollard,  himself  glow- 
ing as  he  felt  Claire's  face  burn  under  his  hand, 
"  blame  the  saints,  not  us.  We  have  been  flung  to- 
gether from  the  ends  of  the  earth.  It  is  a  blessed 
miracle." 

Mother  Mary  made  a  dab  with  her  head  which 
meant,  "  Do  not  be  deceived,  my  son." 

Dollard  understood  a  movement  Claire  made,  and 
gave  her  his  arm  to  lead  her  away. 

"  And  the  demoiselle  takes  this  young  commandant 
for  her  husband  f " 

"I  do,  reverend  mother,"  the  demoiselle  replied, 
lifting  up  a  countenance  set  in  the  family  cast  of 
stern  stubbornness. 

"  It  will  be  my  duty  to  send  an  instant  message  to 
the  bishop." 

"  The  bishop  may  still  be  found  at  the  council.  I 
have  just  been  with  him,"  said  Dollard.  "  Let  your 


JACQUES  HAS  SCRUPLES.  49 

messenger  make  haste,  reverend  mother,  for  I  leave 
Quebec  directly." 

"  Then  there  is  no  need  of  haste.  The  Sieur  des 
Ormeaux  can  present  his  suit  to  the  bishop  next  time 
he  comes  to  Quebec." 

"I  shall  never  come  to  Quebec  again,  reverend 
mother." 

Claire  looked  above  the  level  of  her  own  eyes  to 
understand  this  riddle. 

Bollard  was  scarcely  twenty-five  years  old.  His 
crystal  love,  so  strong  that  it  had  him  in  possession, 
shone  through  a  face  set  in  lines  of  despair. 

"  Surely  you  can  come  again  in  a  week  t " 

"My  darling,  it  may  take  nearly  that  long  to 
reach  Montreal.  How  little  you  know  of  distances 
in  this  savage  country ! " 

"  Monsieur,  I  will  send  for  the  bishop,"  said  Mother 
Mary  of  the  Incarnation. 

As  her  black  robe  moved  away,  the  other  people  in 
the  hall,  seeing  nothing  further  to  gaze  at,  resumed 
their  wooing  and  bargaining. 

"What  did  you  mean  when  you  said  you  shall 
never  come  to  Quebec  again  f"  inquired  Claire. 

Dollard  penetrated  her  with  his  look. 

"  Will  you  marry  me  this  moment!  " 

"  Monsieur,  how  can  I  marry  you  this  moment  ? " 

"  By  going  to  the  notary,  who  has  a  table  down- 
stairs, and  afterward  to  Father  de  Casson,  who,  for- 


50  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

tunately,  is  waiting  for  me  in  the  cathedral  now.  I 
see  what  will  happen  if  I  wait  to  demand  you  in 
marriage  of  the  bishop.  There  will  be  delays  and 
obstacles,  if  not  a  flat  refusal." 

"  The  commandant  truly  takes  me  for  a  king's 
girl,"  she  said,  her  teeth  showing  in  laughter,  though 
her  black  eyelashes  started  into  crescent-like  promi- 
nence on  whitening  cheeks. 

"  Have  you  I  will,  however  I  take  you ;  the  whole 
world  shall  not  prevent  that  now.  And  listen  :  sup- 
pose I  had  taken  vows, — wait !— honorable  vows. 
It  will  surely  be  as  well  with  you  after  my  pledges 
are  fulfilled  as  it  was  before  we  met  here.  This  hard 
convent  life  in  New  France,  you  cannot  endure  that. 
You  will  be  the  lady  of  my  poor  seigniory,  and  per- 
haps I  may  add  some  glory  to  the  name.  My  Claire, 
do  you  love  me  f  " 

"  Sieur  des  Ormeaux,  is  not  that  enough  to  admit 
in  one  day  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  not.  When  was  a  day  ever  granted  to 
us  before?  If  we  lose  this  point  of  time,  the  dead 
wall  of  separation  will  rise  again,  and  I  shall  be 
robbed  of  you  forever." 

"  But  why  can  you  not  come  back  again  ? " 

"Because  the  bounds  are  set  for  me.  Yet,  if  I 
could  come  again,  would  I  prosper  any  better? 
Claire,  if  my  suit  is  even  listened  to,  there  will  be 
messages  to  the  king,  and  to  the  Montmorency  in 


JACQUES  HAS  SCRUPLES.  51 

France,  and  a  year's  or  two  years'  delay.  As  for  me, 
I  shall  be  dead  long  before  then.  We  can  go  to  the 
notary  this  moment.  We  can  go  to  the  cathedral  to 
Father  de  Casson.  We  can  go  forthwith  to  my  boat 
and  start  up  the  St.  Lawrence.  O  my  love!77 — Dol- 
lard's  voice  was  searching  and  deep  in  pleading, — 
"  can  you  not  stoop  to  this  haste  for  me  t  I  shall 
carry  you  into  hardship,  but  carry  you  like  the  cross. 
While  we  stand  here  the  abbess  sends  for  the  bishop ; 
the  bishop  comes  and  says,  'Go  back,  fair  cousin, 
into  the  convent;  and  you,  Dollard,  whoever  you  may 
be,  get  yourself  off  to  Montreal.'  I  could  not  then 
urge  you  against  your  kinsman's  authority.  But 
now  the  word  is  unspoken.  Shall  we  stand  here  and 
wait  until  it  is  spoken  t " 

"I  see  no  reason  why  we  should,  monsieur,"  she 
replied,  pink  as  a  flower. 

"  Then  you  will  consent  to  be  married  at  once  t n 

"  There  is,  I  believe,  but  one  staircase,"  said  Claire. 
"It  would  not  be  pleasant  to  meet  the  bishop  or 
Mother  Mary  of  the  Incarnation  as  we  go  down." 

"Let  us  make  haste,  therefore,"  he  deduced  from 
her  evasive  reply ;  and  haste  they  made,  so  that  sev- 
eral pairs  were  kept  waiting  by  the  notarial  table 
while  the  commandant  was  served. 

The  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame  in  Quebec  stood,  and 
still  stands,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  square.  It 
was  a  massive  pile  of  masonry,  compared  to  the 


52  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

cabins  of  Lower  Town,  and  held  its  cross  far  up  in 
their  northern  sky.  Within  were  holy  dimness  and 
silence,  broken  only  by  the  footfalls  of  occasionally 
coming  and  going  devotees.  Though  not  yet  rich  in 
altars  and  shrines,  paintings,  and  glittering  crystal 
and  metal,  the  young  cathedral  had  its  worthy  relics, 
and  its  humble  offerings  of  tinsel  and  ribbon-tied 
paper  flowers.  The  merchant  people  from  Lower 
Town,  and  peasants  from  adjacent  river  c6tes  and 
Laval's  great  seigniory,  came  here  to  bathe  their  souls 
in  thoughts  of  heaven,  and  to  kneel  on  the  pavement 
beside  governor  or  high  dame. 

At  this  hour  of  morning  only  two  persons  sat  in  the 
church  as  if  waiting  for  some  kind  of  service. 

There  were  three  nuns,  indeed,  kneeling  in  a  row 
before  the  chancel  rail,  their  three  small  red  noses  just 
appearing  beyond  their  black  veils  —  noses  express- 
ing quiet  sanctity.  And  a  confessional  was  perhaps 
occupied. 

But  the  pair  who  waited  were  neither  nuns  nor 
penitents.  They  had  taken  the  usual  moisture  from 
the  font  of  holy  water,  wherein  many  devout  fingers 
had  deposited  considerable  sediment.  They  had 
bowed  towards  the  altar  and  told  their  prayers  from 
station  to  station,  and  were  now  anxious  to  be  joined 
in  matrimony  lest  Bollard  should  arrive  and  cut  off 
all  chance  of  collecting  the  governor's  bounty  by  his 
impatient  haste. 


JACQUES  HAS  SCRUPLES.  53 

Still,  as  no  priest  appeared,  Jacques  and  Louise  sat 
in  repose  with  their  eyes  cast  down.  The  feverish 
activity  of  this  new  world  would  never  touch  their 
veins  or  quicken  the  blood  of  any  of  their  descend- 
ants. How  many  generations  before  them  had  been 
calmed  into  this  pastoral  peace  on  sun-soaked  lands ! 
Years  of  dwelling  among  pines  and  mountains  and 
azure  lakes,  of  skimming  on  snow-shoes  over  bound- 
less winter  whiteness,  of  shooting  rapids,  and  of 
standing  on  peaks,  would  all  fail  to  over-exhilarate 
blood  so  kindly  bovine  and  unhurried  in  its  action. 

The  penitent  came  out  of  the  confessional  closet 
and  stalked  away — an  Algonquin  Indian,  with  some 
slight  smell  of  rum  about  him  and  a  rebuked  expres- 
sion of  countenance.  A  fringe  or  thread  of  his 
blanket  trailed  on  the  pavement  as  he  went.  Then 
Dollier  de  Casson,  who  never  omitted  confessing  any 
sinner  that  appealed  to  him,  strode  out  of  the  con- 
fessional himself  on  gigantic  soles,  though  with  the 
soft  tread  which  nature  and  training  impart  to  a 
priest.  He  saw  the  waiting  couple,  and  as  serenely  as 
he  would  have  prepared  for  such  an  office  in  some 
river  cabin,  he  took  his  stole  out  of  a  large  inner 
pocket  of  his  cassock  and  invested  himself  in  it. 

During  this  pause  Bollard  came  hastily  into  the 
cathedral  with  a  muffled  lady  on  his  arm.  He  took 
her  at  once  to  Father  de  Casson,  and  beckoned 
Jacques  to  follow  them  to  the  altar. 


54  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

Jacques  followed  with  Louise,  his  face  waxing  in 
anxiety,  until  a  heavy  heart  brought  down  his  knees 
with  a  bump  behind  Bollard  and  that  unknown 
dame. 

"  How  is  this,  my  son  f "  inquired  Father  de  Casson 
of  Bollard  as  he  rested  his  eyes  on  the  commandant's 
bride. 

"  Father,  let  the  service  go  on  at  once,  and  I  will 
make  all  due  explanation  when  there  is  more  time. 
The  civil  marriage  is  completed." 

Father  de  Casson  took  his  book  to  administer  the 
sacrament  of  marriage  to  these  two  pairs,  when 
Jacques,  walking  on  his  knees,  brought  himself 
behind  Bollard's  ear. 

"Father,"  he  whispered  to  the  priest,  the  hisses  of 
his  suppressed  voice  scattering  through  the  place, 
"  I  have  on  my  mind  what  must  first  be  said  to  my 
master." 

"  When  did  ye  all  confess  last  ? "  inquired  Bollier 
de  Casson. 

"Father,"  urged  Bollard,  "believe  me,  we  are  all 
prepared  for  the  sacrament  of  marriage." 

"But,  m'sieur,"  anxiously  hissed  Jacques  at  his 
ear,  "  I  did  not  know  you  were  going  to  take  a  wife 
too." 

"  Suppose  you  did  n't  know,"  exclaimed  Bollard, 
turning  towards  him  in  impatience ;  "  what  is  it  to 
you?" 


JACQUES  HAS  SCRUPLES.  55 

"You  will  have  to  change  your  will,  m'sieur." 

"  Certainly  I  will  have  to  change  my  will ;  but  you 
shall  not  be  injured." 

"  That 's  not  it,  m'sieur,"  persisted  Jacques.  "  What- 
ever is  right  to  you  will  be  right  to  me.  But  here  7s 
this  girl.  I  Ve  nearly  promised  her  the  seigniory, 
and  what  will  she  say  when  she  's  cut  out  of  it  ?  " 

"  Get  back  to  your  place  and  let  the  service  go  on," 
said  Dollard,  half  rising  in  menace. 

"  But  I  ought  to  take  her  out  and  explain  this  to 
her  first,"  insisted  Jacques.  "  Then  if  she  chooses  to 
go  into  the  marriage  she  can  blame  no  one  but  her- 
self." 

"  Will  you  get  back  to  your  place  and  cease  your 
interruption,"  whispered  Dollard,  with  fierceness,  "  or 
must  I  take  you  by  the  neck  and  toss  you  out  of  the 
cathedral  t" 

"  No,  m'sieur,  1 11  not  interrupt  it  I  ;11  marry  her. 
But  what  she  will  do  with  me  afterwards  is  the  load 
upon  my  mind." 

So,  rubbing  his  knees  on  the  pavement,  Jacques 
returned  like  a  crab  to  his  immovable  bride,  and 
dejectedly  bore  his  part  in  the  service.  Yet  before 
this  ordeal  of  marriage  was  over,  the  pastoral  peace 
had  returned  to  his  countenance,  and  solemn  relief 
appeared  in  his  eyes.  As  Louise  Bibelot  became 
transmuted  into  Louise  Goffinet,  he  said  within  him- 
self: 


56  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

"  Now,  if  she  be  well  contented  with  the  comman- 
dant's change  of  mind,  all  will  go  right.  But  if  she 
turns  rebellious  at  these  new  orders,  threatening  to 
desert,  and  wanting  the  entire  earth  with  the  seign- 
iory thrown  in,  there  11  be  only  one  thing  for  me  to 
do.  I  01  whip  her!" 


VI. 

_A  RIVER  COTE. 


HE  four  Huron  Indians,  cut  off 
abruptly  from  the  luxury  of  a 
Lower  Town  drinking-shop,  sat 
in  sulky  readiness  with  their 
grasp  upon  the  oars.  Dollard 
was  at  the  stern  of  the  boat  beside  Claire,  whom  he 
had  wrapped  in  bear-skins,  because  at  high  noon  the 
April  air  was  chill  upon  the  river. 

Dollier  de  Casson  had  likewise  taken  to  his  canoe 
with  his  servant  and  pack  of  sacred  utensils,  and 
this  small  craft  rested  against  the  larger  one  to 
resist  the  current's  dragging.  Dollard's  rope  yet 
held  to  the  shore.  His  impatient  eyes  watched 
Quebec  Heights  for  the  appearance  of  Jacques  and 
Louise. 

Water  lapping  the  two  boats  brought  them  together 
with  faint  jars  and  grindings  of  the  edges.  Dollier 


58  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLABD. 

de  Casson,  sitting  thus  facing  the  contraband  bride, 
beheld  her  with  increasing  interest. 

Jacques  and  Louise,  carrying  the  bride's  caskets 
and  impedimenta  of  their  own,  finally  appeared  on 
Quebec's  slopes,  descending  with  deliberation  to  the 
landing. 

They  had  no  breath  to  spend  in  chat,  but  Jacques 
realized  with  voiceless  approval  that  Louise  carried 
manfully  her  portion  of  the  freight. 

He  rolled  his  keg  into  the  boat,  slipped  the  boxes 
aboard,  and  helped  Louise  to  a  bench  in  front  of  him- 
self ;  then,  untying  the  rope,  he  sprung  in. 

The  Hurons  bent  to  their  oars  and  the  boat  shot 
out  into  the  river,  Dollier  de  Casson's  canoe-man 
following.  Above  water  murmur  and  rhythmic 
splash  of  oars  Dollard  then  called  his  vassal  to 
account,  addressing  him  over  the  Indians'  swaying 
shoulders. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  this  hour  by  the  sun, 
Jacques  Goflmet  f " 

"  Hour,  m'sieur  ?  I  have  trotted  myself  into  a  sweat 
since  we  left  the  cathedral,  and  thrown  away  all  my 
bounty  the  king  pays  a  bachelor  on  his  marriage, 
except  this  keg  of  salt  meat  and  eleven  crowns  in 
money.  That  because  of  your  hot  haste,  m'sieur.  I 
lose  an  ox,  a  cow,  a  pair  of  fine  hogs,  and  such 
chickens  as  never  crowed  on  St.  Bernard,  and  yet  I 
have  been  an  hour,  have  I? — May  the  saints  never 


A  RIVER  C6TE.  59 

let  ruin  and  poverty  tread  on  my  heels  so  fast  an- 
other hour  while  I  live ! " 

Claire  held  out  to  Dollard,  from  her  furs,  a  square 
watch  having  a  mirror  set  in  its  back,  saying : 

"  You  see,  we  waited  scarcely  twenty-five  minutes." 

Dollard  laughed,  but  called  again  to  his  vassal : 

"A  cow,  an  ox,  a  load  of  swine,  and  a  flock  of 
chickens !  And  having  freighted  the  boat  with  these, 
where  did  you  intend  to  carry  the  lady  of  St.  Ber- 
nard, your  seignior,  your  wife,  yourself,  and  the 
rowers,  my  excellent  Jacques  f  Were  we  to  be  turned 
out  as  guests  to  the  bishop  T " 

"  Saints  forbid,  m'sieur,"  Jacques  called  back  sin- 
cerely. "  The  bishop  and  the  abbess  stood  by  while 
my  wife  brought  madame's  caskets  from  the  convent, 
and  they  smiled  so  't  would  make  a  man's  teeth  chat- 
ter. I  am  not  skilled  in  the  looks  of  holy  folks,  but 
I  said  to  my  wife  as  we  came  away,  '  These  Quebec 
Jesuits,  they  begrudge  the  light  of  day  to  Montreal.' 
So  it  would  be  cold  cheer  you  got  of  bishop  or  abbess, 
m'sieur." 

Dollard  and  the  fur-wrapped  bride  looked  up  at 
Quebec  promontory  which  they  were  rounding, 
heights  of  sheer  rock  stretching  up  and  holding  the 
citadel  in  mid-heaven.  The  Indians  steadily  flung 
the  boat  upstream. 

Claire  turned  over  in  her  mind  that  mute  contempt 
which  Mother  Mary  evidently  felt  for  what  she  would 


60  THE   EOMANCE    OF  DOLLAJRD. 

call  a  girFs  fickleness.  Her  ungracious  leave-taking 
of  the  upright  and  duty-loving  abbess  was  a  pain 
to  her.  As  to  the  bishop,  she  could  not  regret  that 
his  first  benediction  had  been  final.  Resentment  still 
heated  her  against  both  those  strict  devotees.  She 
was  yet  young  enough  to  expect  perfect  happiness, 
for  the  children  of  man  live  much  before  they  learn 
to  absorb  the  few  flawless  joys  which  owe  their  per- 
fection to  briefness. 

One  such  moment  Claire  had  when  her  soldier 
leaned  over  her  in  silence. 

"We  are  going  farther  from  France.  Are  you 
homesick,  dear?77 

"  No }  I  am  simply  in  a  rage  at  the  bishop  of  New 
France  and  the  abbess  of  the  Ursulines." 

"There  they  go  behind  the  rock  of  Quebec,  en- 
tirely separated  from  us.  Have  you  regrets  that  you 
bore  such  a  wedding  for  my  sake  1 77 

"Sieur  des  Ormeaux,  I  have  but  a  single  fault  to 
find  with  you.77 

"  What  is  that  f  "  Dollard  anxiously  inquired. 

"  The  edge  of  your  hat  is  too  narrow/7 

"  Why,  it  is  the  usual  head-cover  of  a  French  officer 
of  my  rank ;  but  I  will  throw  it  into  the  river.77 

"  O,  monsieur !  that  would  be  worse  than  ever.  If 
you  despise  me  for  seizing  on  you  as  I  did  * 

"  0  Claire ! " 


A  RIVER  C6TE.  61 

"What  will  you  think  when  I  own  my  depravity 
now!  The  abbess  might  well  smile.  She  doubtless 
knows  I  will  say  this  to  you.  Are  those  yellow- 
feathered  men  watching  us!" 

"  Not  at  all.    They  watch  the  St.  Lawrence." 

"  Louise's  back  is  turned.    But  your  servant  t " 

"  Can  he  do  anything  but  stare  at  Louise  t " 

"  I  forgot  the  priest.'7 

"  His  boat  is  many  lengths  behind." 

"  Sieur  des  Ormeaux,  this  is  a  lovely  voyage.  But 
do  you  remember  climbing  the  convent  wall  and  drop- 
ping into  the  garden  once  where  your  cousin  and  I 
sat  with  our  needlework  t * 

"  Once  f  Say  many  times.  I  spent  much  of  ray  life 
on  that  convent  wall.  You  saw  me  once." 

"You  fell  on  one  knee,  monsieur,  and  seized  my 
work  and  kissed  it.  That  silk  mess ;  I  often  looked 
at  it  afterward.  Men  have  very  queer  tastes,  have 
they  nott  It  is  a  shocking  thing  when  a  girl  has 
just  flown  the  convent  and  her  own  family,  but,  O 
Sieur  des  Ormeaux !  I  want  to  kiss  you ! " 

A  sail-boat,  perhaps  venturing  down  from  Three 
Rivers,  cut  past  them  in  the  distance.  Other  craft 
disappeared.  No  stealthy  canoe  shot  from  cover  of 
rock  or  headland.  As  Claire  half  closed  her  eyes 
and  leaned  against  the  rest  provided  for  her,  she 
thought  she  saw  a  heron  rise  from  shallows  at  the 


62  THE    ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

water's  edge,  trailing  its  legs  in  flight.  Catbirds 
and  blue  jays  could  be  seen  like  darting  specks,  de- 
scribing lineless  curves  against  the  sky  or  shore. 

Sometimes  Dollier  de  Casson's  boat  lagged,  or 
again  it  shot  close  behind  Bollard's.  The  first  stop 
was  made  on  a  flat  rocky  island  where  there  was  a 
spring  of  clear  water.  Louise  and  Jacques  spread 
out  as  a  bridal  repast  such  provisions  as  Bollard  had 
hurriedly  bought  in  Quebec,  with  dried  eels  and  cured 
fish  from  the  St.  Bernard  cellar.  The  pause  was  a 
brief  one.  And  no  tale  of  this  island  was  dropped 
in  Claire's  ear,  or  of  another  island  nearer  the  St. 
Lawrence's  mouth :  how  two  hundred  Micmac  Indians 
camped  there  for  the  night,  beaching  their  canoes  and 
hiding  their  wives  and  children  in  a  recess  of  the 
rocks ;  how  the  Iroquois  surprised  and  blotted  them 
all  out.  That  dreaded  war-cry,  "Kohe  —  Kohe!" 
might  well  be  living  in  the  air  along  the  river  yet. 

Before  reentering  the  boat  Claire  went  to  the 
spring  for  a  last  cup  of  water,  taking  Louise  with 
her. 

"And  what  did  the  bishop  say?"  she  seized  this 
chance  to  inquire. 

"  Mademoiselle  —  madame,  he  did  nothing  but  look, 
as  my  husband  said.  We  were  all  four  surprised,  the 
bishop,  the  abbess,  my  husband,  and  I." 

"  Bid  the  abbess  accept  my  purse  I  bade  you  leave 
for  the  convent  ? " 


A  RIVER  COTE.  63 

"  Madame,  I  left  it  lying  on  the  floor  where  she 
dropped  it.  She  has  no  doubt  picked  it  up  and 
counted  the  coins  out  to  charity  by  this.  The  whole 
marriage  seems  a  miracle,  with  my  mother  helping 
the  blessed  saints." 

"  Were  you,  then,  pleased,  my  child  f " 

"Mademoiselle,  I  was  stupid  with  delight.  For 
you  will  now  be  my  mistress  and  have  me  to  wait 
on  you  the  rest  of  our  lives.  Had  you  no  terrors 
at  coming  away  with  a  strange  man,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  Strange  man,  tongue  of  pertness !  when  the 
Sieur  des  Ormeaux  has  been  my  lover  these  many 
years." 

"  Was  he,  indeed,  one  of  those  troublesome  wooers 
who  drove  you  out  of  France  t  You  said  this  morn- 
ing you  would  never  be  yoked  in  marriage,  and  long 
before  the  sun  goes  down  you  are  a  bride!  Ah, 
madame,  the  air  of  this  country  must  be  favorable 
to  women ! " 

Again  the  boats  pushed  up-river,  following  the 
afternoon  westward. 

They  had  passed  Cap  Rouge,  a  cluster  of  cabins, 
the  seignior's  substantial  stone  hut  forming  one  side 
of  the  fort-like  palisades.  The  strip  farms  extended 
in  long  ribbons  back  from  the  shore.  Their  black 
stubble  of  stumps,  mowed  by  ax  and  fire,  crouched 
like  the  pitiful  impotence  of  man  at  the  flanks  of 
unmeasured  forest. 


64  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

Before  nightfall  the  voyagers  came  near  a  low 
beach  where  sand  and  gravel  insensibly  changed 
to  flat  clearing,  and  a  cote  of  three  or  four  families 
huddled  together. 

Wild  red-legged  children  came  shouting  to  the 
water's  edge  before  Dollier  de  Casson's  canoe  was 
beached,  and  some  women  equally  sylvan  gathered 
shyly  among  the  stumps  to  welcome  him. 

As  the  priest  stepped  from  his  boat  he  waved  a  hand 
in  farewell  to  the  other  voyagers,  and  Dollard  stood 
up,  lifting  his  hat. 

The  sacrament  of  marriage,  so  easy  of  attainment 
in  New  Prance  at  that  time,  had  evidently  been  dis- 
pensed with  in  the  first  hut  this  spiritual  father  en- 
tered. His  man  carried  in  his  sacred  luggage,  and  the 
temporary  chapel  was  soon  set  up  in  a  corner  unoccu- 
pied. The  children  hovered  near  in  delight,  gazing  at 
tall  candles  and  gilt  ornaments,  for  even  in  that  age 
of  poverty  the  pomps  of  the  Roman  Church  were  car- 
ried into  settlers'  cabins  throughout  New  France. 
Dollier  de  Casson  had  for  his  confessional  closet  a 
canopy  of  black  cloth  stretched  over  two  supports. 
The  penitent  crept  under  this  merciful  wing,  and  the 
priest,  seated  on  a  stool,  could  examine  the  soul  as  a 
modern  photographer  examines  his  camera;  except 
that  he  used  ear  instead  of  eye. 

The  interior  of  a  peasant  censitaire's  dwelling 
changes  little  from  generation  to  generation.  One 


A  RIVER   C6TE.  65 

may  still  see  the  crucifix  over  the  principal  bed, 
joints  of  cured  meat  hanging  from  rafters,  and  the 
artillery  of  the  house  resting  there  on  hooks.  A 
rough-built  loom  crowded  inmates  whom  it  clothed. 
And  against  the  wall  of  the  entrance  side  dangled  a 
vial  of  holy  water  as  a  safeguard  against  lightning. 

Dollier  de  Casson  stood  up  to  admonish  his  little 
flock,  gathered  from  all  the  huts  of  the  c6te,  into 
silence  before  him.  The  men  took  off  their  rough 
caps  and  put  them  under  their  arms,  standing  in  a 
disordered  group  together.  Though  respectful  and 
obedient,  they  did  not  crowd  their  spiritual  father 
with  such  wild  eagerness  as  the  women,  who,  on  any 
seat  found  or  carried  in,  sat  hungrily,  hushing  around 
their  knees  the  nipped  French  dialect  of  their  children. 

"What  is  this,  Antonio  Brunette T"  exclaimed 
Father  de  Casson  after  he  had  cast  his  eyes  among 
them.  "  Could  you  not  wait  my  coming,  when  you 
well  knew  I  purposed  marrying  you  this  time  t  You 
intend  to  have  the  wedding  and  the  christening 
together." 

"Father,"  expostulated  the  swart  youth,  avoiding 
the  priest  to  gaze  sheepishly  at  his  betrothed's  cower- 
ing distress,  "  Pierre's  daughter  is  past  sixteen,  and  we 
would  have  been  married  if  you  had  been  here.  You 
know  the  king  lays  a  fine  on  any  father  who  lets  his 
daughter  pass  sixteen  without  binding  her  in  mar- 
riage. And  Pierre  is  a  very  poor  man." 


66  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

"  Therefore,  to  help  Pierre  evade  his  Majesty's  fine, 
you  must  break  the  laws  of  Heaven,  must  you,  my 
son  ?  Hearty  penance  shall  ye  both  do  before  I  minis- 
ter to  you  the  sacrament  of  marriage.  My  children, 
the  evil  one  prowls  constantly  along  the  banks  of  this 
river,  while  your  poor  confessors  can  only  reach  you 
at  intervals  of  months.  Heed  my  admonitions.  Where 
is  Pierre's  wife  ? " 

Down  went  Pierre's  face  between  his  hands  into 
his  cap. 

"  Dead,"  he  articulated  from  its  hollow.  "  Without 
absolution.  And  the  little  baby  on  her  arm,  it  went 
with  her,  baptized  by  ourselves." 

"  God  have  pity  on  you,  my  children,"  said  Dollier 
de  Casson.  "  I  will  say  masses  over  her  grave,  and 
it  is  well  with  the  little  unblemished  soul.  How 
many  children  have  you,  Pierre?" 

"  Seventeen,  father." 

"  Twenty-six,  he  should  say,  father/'  a  woman  near 
the  priest  declared.  "For  the  widow  of  Jean  Ba'ti' 
Morin  has  nine." 

"And  why  should  Pierre  count  as  his  own  the  flock 
of  Jean  Ba'ti'  Morin's  widow  ? " 

"  Because  he  is  to  marry  her,  father,  when  Antonio 
Brunette  marries  his  oldest  girl." 

"  If  I  come  not  of tener,"  remarked  the  priest,  "  you 
will  all  be  changed  about  and  newly  related  to  each 
other  so  that  I  shall  not  know  how  to  name  ye.  I  will 


A  RIVER  C6TE.  67 

read  the  service  for  the  dead  over  your  first  wife, 
Pierre,  before  I  marry  you  to  your  second.  It  is  in- 
deed better  to  be  dwelling  in  love  than  in  discord. 
Have  you  had  any  disagreements  !  n 

"  No,  father ;  but  Jean  Ba'ti's  oldest  boy  has  taken 
to  the  woods  and  is  off  among  the  Indians,  leaving 
his  mother  to  farm  alone  with  only  six  little  lads  to 
help  her." 

"  Another  coureur  de  bois,"  said  the  priest  in  dis- 
pleasure. 

"  Therefore,  f ather,"  opportunely  put  in  Jean  Ba'ti's 
widow,  "  I  having  no  man  at  all,  and  Pierre  having 
no  woman  at  all,  we  thought  to  wed." 

"  Think  now  of  your  sins,"  said  Father  de  Casson, 
"  from  oldest  to  youngest.  After  penance  and  absolu- 
tion and  examination  in  the  faith  ye  shall  have  mass." 

The  solemn  performance  of  these  religious  duties 
began  and  proceeded  until  dusk  obliterated  all  faces 
in  the  dimly  lighted  cabin.  Stump  roots  were  piled 
up  in  the  fire-place,  and  Pierre's  daughter,  between 
her  prayers,  put  on  the  evening  meal  to  cook. 

If  a  child  tittered  at  going  under  the  confessional 
tent,  its  mother  gave  it  a  rear  prod  with  admonishing 
hand.  In  that  humble  darkness  Father  de  Casson's 
ear  received  the  whispers  of  all  these  plodding  souls, 
and  his  tongue  checked  their  evil  and  nourished  their 
good.  The  cabin  became  a  chapel  full  of  kneeling 
figures  telling  beads. 


68  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

This  portion  of  his  duty  finished,  Dollier  de  Casson 
postponed  the  catechizing,  and  made  Pierre  take  a 
lighted  stick  of  pine  and  show  him  that  ridge  where- 
under  mother  and  baby  lay.  There  was  always 
danger  of  surprise  by  the  Iroquois.  The  men  and 
women  who  followed  in  irregular  procession  through 
the  vast  dimness  of  northern  twilight  kept  on  their 
guard  against  moving  stumps  or  any  sudden  uprising 
like  the  rush  of  quails  from  some  covert.  In  rapid 
tones  the  priest  repeated  the  service  for  the  dead; 
then  called  his  followers  from  their  knees  to  return 
to  the  house  to  celebrate  the  weddings  of  Pierre  and 
Pierre's  daughter. 

After  this  rite,  supper  was  served  in  Pierre's  house, 
the  other  families  dispersing  to  their  own  tables  — 
cabbage-soup,  fat  pork,  and  coarse  bread  made  from 
pounded  grain;  for  this  cote  was  too  poor  to  have 
a  mill.  These  were  special  luxuries  for  Father  de 
Casson,  for  the  usual  censitaire  supper  consisted  of 
bread  and  eels.  The  missionary  priest,  accustomed 
with  equal  patience  to  fasting  or  eating,  spread  his 
hands  above  unsavory  steam  and  blessed  the  meal. 
Silently,  while  he  spoke,  the  door  opened  and  a  slim 
dark  girl  entered  the  house. 


VII. 
A  HALF-BREED. 

stood  erect  and  silent  against  the  closed 
door  until  Dollier  de  Casson,  before  he  had 
taken  his  first  mouthful,  spoke  to  her. 
"  Peace  be  with  you,  Massawippa." 
"  Peace  be  also  with  you,  father/' 
Her  voice  was  contralto  without  gutturals. 
"  You  come  in  good  time,  my  daughter.    It  is  long 
since  I  examined  you  in  the  faith  and  absolved  you." 
"  Think  of  my  soul  later,  father ;  I  come  from  the 
chief." 

"Where  is  the  chief!" 

"  fitienne  Annahotaha  sends  for  you,"  she  replied 
grandly.  "  I  am  to  show  you  the  way." 

Dollier  de  Casson  did  not  ask  why  fitienne  Anna- 
hotaha sent  for  the  priest  instead  of  coming  to  the 
priest  himself.  The  Huron  chief  disdained  his  wife's 
relatives  with  savage  frankness. 

69 


70  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

"  Very  good,  my  daughter.  In  the  morning,  then, 
we  will  set  out." 

"Annahotaha  begs  that  you  will  come  at  once, 
father." 

"  Hath  he  such  urgent  need  of  a  priest  ? " 

"  He  leaves  his  present  camp  early  to-morrow,  and 
he  himself  will  tell  you  his  urgent  business." 

The  girl's  eyes  moved  slightingly  over  this  huge 
French  family,  holding  them  unfit  to  hear  many 
words  concerning  her  father. 

"Very  good,  my  daughter.  As  soon  as  I  have 
finished  my  repast  I  shall  be  ready." 

Pierre  muttered  objections.  His  first  wife's  grave 
was  blessed,  and  his  second  wife  was  now  comfort- 
ably his,  but  he  grudged  gospel  privileges  to  that 
interloper  Annahotaha,  who  had  married  his  sister 
and  made  a  white  squaw  of  her,  poor  unsettled  woman, 
paddling  her  from  the  island  of  Orleans  to  the  lower 
Ottawa  and  back  until  she  died. 

All  seats  being  occupied,  Massawippa  still  stood  by 
the  entrance.  Her  uncle  Pierre  did  point  her  to  a 
place  beside  the  table,  but  she  shook  her  head. 

Father  de  Casson  was  placed  by  himself  at  the 
table  end,  Pierre's  mob  of  children  and  step-children 
thronging  below,  the  little  ones  standing  wedged 
together,  some  with  chins  barely  level  with  the  board. 

Though  scarcely  more  than  fourteen  years  old, 
Massawippa  looked  well  grown  and  tall.  No  civilised 


"  Peace  be  with  you,  Massawippa." 


A    HALF-BREED.  71 

awkwardness  of  limb,  or  uncertainty  of  action  when 
she  moved,  hampered  her.  Notwithstanding  her 
cheek-bones  were  high  and  her  mouth  wide,  she 
was  full  of  vigorous  young  beauty.  Her  temples 
were  round,  and  clasped  as  if  by  jet-black  bird- 
wings  in  hair  which  divided  its  weight  betwixt 
two  braids  and  measured  half  the  length  of  her 
body. 

Scarcely  tolerant  was  the  eye  she  kept  on  these 
French  habitants  her  kinsfolks.  She  was  princess; 
they  were  merely  inferior  white  stock  from  whom  her 
mother  had  sprung. 

In  personal  appointments  she  was  exquisite  com- 
pared with  the  French  women  of  the  cabin.  Her  rich 
and  glowing  cheeks,  her  small  dark  ears  and  throat 
and  hands,  had  reached  a  state  of  polish  through 
unusual  care.  Her  raiment  appeared  to  be  culled 
from  the  best  fashions  of  both  races.  She  wore  the 
soft  Indian  moccasin,  stitched  with  feather- work,  and 
the  woolen  French  stocking.  All  beaver  skins  in  New 
France  nominally  belonged  to  the  government;  but 
this  half-breed  girl  wore  a  pliant  slim  gown,  chest- 
nut-colored and  silky,  of  beaver  skin,  reaching  nearly 
to  her  ankles.  It  was  girdled  around  the  waist  and 
collared  around  the  top  by  bands  of  white  wampum 
glittering  like  scales.  A  small  light  blanket  of  wool 
dyed  a  very  dull  red  was  twisted  around  her  and 
hung  over  one  arm. 


72  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAKD. 

A  bud  of  a  woman  though  still  a  child,  full  of  the 
gentle  dignity  of  the  Hurons,  who  of  all  the  great 
tribes  along  the  St.  Lawrence  had  lent  themselves 
most  kindly  to  Christian  teaching,  and  undulled  by 
her  French  peasant  blood,  Massawippa  was  comfort- 
ing to  eyes  wearied  by  oily  dark  faces. 

Dollier  de  Casson,  gentleman  and  soldier  before  he 
became  priest,  always  treated  her  with  the  deference 
she  was  inclined  to  exact  as  due  her  station. 

Most  Canadian  half-breeds  were  the  children  of 
French  fathers  who  had  turned  coureurs  de  bois  and 
of  Indian  women  briefly  espoused  by  them.  But  the 
Huron  chief  had  wedded  Massawippa's  mother  by 
priest  and  Latin  service.  The  inmates  of  Pierre's 
house  regarded  this  girl  as  a  misfortune  that  held 
them  in  awe.  Her  patent  of  nobility  was  dirt  to 
them,  yet  by  virtue  of  it  she  trod  on  air  above  their 
heads ;  and  she  was  always  so  strangely  clean  and 
strangely  handsome,  this  high  young  dame  of  the 
woods. 

Pierre's  new  wife,  the  corners  of  her  mouth  set- 
tling, regarded  Massawippa  with  disfavor.  The 
families  in  that  c6te  knew  well  at  whose  door  Jean 
Ba'ti's  widow  laid  the  defection  of  her  son. 

One  of  Pierre's  little  boys,  creeping  sidewise 
towards  Massawippa,  leaned  against  the  door  and 
looked  up,  courting  her  smile.  He  was  very  dirty, 
his  cheeks  new  sodden  with  pork-fat  being  the  most 


A    HALF-BREED.  73 

acceptable  points  of  his  surface,  She  did  not  encour- 
age his  advances,  but  met  his  look  sedately. 

"Thou  know'st  not  what  I  know,  Massawippa," 
said  he.  "  Thou  know'st  not  who  's  married." 

She  remained  silent,  pride  magnifying  the  natural 
indifference  of  her  time  of  life  to  such  news. 

"The  father  Pierre  is  married.  Dost  guess  he 
married  our  Angfcle  ? "  tempted  the  little  boy,  whose 
ideas  of  the  extent  of  intermarriage  surpassed  even 
the  generous  views  of  his  elders  in  the  c6te.  "  No  ! 
Antonio  Brunette  married  our  Angfele.  Pour  people 
are  married.  It  made  me  laugh.  The  widow  of  Jean 
Ba'ti'  Morin,  she  wedded  Father  Pierre,  and  you  must 
tell  La  Mouche.  Are  you  also  married  to  La  Mouche, 
Massawippa  f  " 

Her  aquiline  face  blazed  with  instant  wrath,  and 
Pierre's  little  boy  fell  back  from  her  as  if  scorched. 
Her  hiss  followed  him. 

"  I  do  not  myself  speak  to  La  Mouche  1 " 

La  Mouche's  mother  was  naturally  the  most  in- 
terested witness  of  this  falcon-like  stoop  of  Massa- 
wippa's,  and  as  a  mother  she  experienced  deeper 
sense  of  injury. 


VIII. 
THE  HUEON. 

LIGHT  rain  was  blistering  the  river  and 
thickening  an  already  dark  landscape 
when  Dollier  de  Casson,  followed  by 
his    man    carrying   what    might    be 
>  called  his  religious  tool-chest,  crossed 
the  clearing  with  Massawippa. 

The  child  walked  before  them,  her  blanket  drawn 
well  up  over  her  head  and  her  moccasins  taking  no 
print  afterwards  visible  from  any  soft  earth  they  trod. 
The  laden  and  much-enduring  servant  stumbled  across 
roots,  but  labored  on  through  sleek  and  treacherous 
wet  spots  with  the  zeal  of  a  missionary  servant. 

Dollier  de  Casson  gave  him  breathing  periods  by 
carrying  the  chapel  himself.  Thus  had  these  two 
men  helped  each  other  in  winter  when  the  earth  was 
banked  in  white,  the  river  a  glittering  solid,  and  one's 
breath  came  to  him  fluid  ice  and  went  from  Mm  an 

74 


THE   HURON.  75 

eruption  of  steam,  as  they  toiled  to  parish  or  distant 
fort  on  snow-shoes.  Thus  did  Jesuit  and  Sulpitian 
priests  keep  their  religion  alive  on  the  St.  Lawrence. 

Within  the  first  pine  covert  three  Hurons  were 
waiting,  evidently  Massawippa's  escort.  She  now 
walked  beside  Dollier  de  Casson  and  they  stalked 
ahead,  threading  a  silent  way  through  the  darkness. 

Spruce  and  white  birch  were  all  the  trees  that  stood 
out  distinctly  to  the  senses,  others  massing  anony- 
mously in  the  void  of  night  and  their  spring  naked- 
ness. The  evergreen  with  prickling  fingers  brushed 
the  passers'  faces ;  while  the  white  birches  in  flecked 
shrouds  crowded  rank  on  rank  like  many  lofty  ghosts 
diverse  of  girth,  and  by  their  whiteness  threw  a  gleam 
upon  the  eyeball. 

Following  the  head  Huron,  Dollier  de  Casson's  com- 
pany trod  straight  over  soft  logs  where  the  foot  sunk 
in  half-rotten  moss,  and  over  that  rustling,  elastic 
cushion  of  dead  leaves,  histories  of  uncounted  sum- 
mers  which  padded  the  floor  of  the  forests.  Through 
roofing  limbs  the  rain  found  it  less  easy  to  pelt  them. 
They  wound  about  rocks  and  climbed  ascents,  until 
Annahotaha's  camp-fire  suddenly  blinked  beneath 
them  and  they  could  stand  overlooking  it. 

He  had  pitched  his  bark  tent  in  a  small  amphitheater 
sloping  down  to  a  tributary  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  The 
camp-fire,  hissing  as  slant  lines  of  the  shower  struck 
it,  threw  light  over  the  little  river's  stung  surface, 


76  THE    ROMANCE    OF   DOLLAED. 

on  low  shrubs  and  rocks,  on  the  oblong  lodge,* 
and  the  figures  of  some  three  dozen  Indians  squat- 
ting blanketed  beside  it,  or  walking  about  throwing 
long  shadows  over  the  brightened  area. 

Etienne  Annahotaha  sat  just  within  the  shelter  of 
his  lodge,  and  here  he  received  the  priest,  standing 
almost  as  tall  as  Dollier  de  Casson,  who  bent  his  head 
to  avoid  the  tent. 

This  shelter  was,  indeed,  altogether  for  Massa- 
wippa;  the  chief  preferred  lying  on  the  ground 
with  his  braves ;  but  she  was  child  of  a  mother  long 
used  to  roofs,  and  was,  besides,  a  being  whom  he 
would  set  up  and  guard  as  a  sacred  image.  There 
was  no  woman  in  the  camp. 

When  Dollier  de  Casson  and  Annahotaha  sat 
silently  down  together,  Massawippa  crept  up  behind 
her  father  and  rested  her  cheek  against  his  back.  He 
allowed  this  mute  caress  and  gazed  with  stern  gravity 
at  the  fire. 

His  soul  was  in  labor,  and  the  priest  good-humor- 
edly  waited  until  it  should  bring  forth  its  care.  No 
religious  instruction  could  be  imparted  to  the  camp 
while  Annahotaha  held  his  speech  unspoken.  Rain 
hissed  softly  through  listening  trees,  paused  to  let 

*  On  a  small  scale  the  typical  Iroquois-Huron  dwelling.  The 
tribal  lodges,  made  to  hold  many  fires  and  many  families,  were 
fifty  or  more  yards  in  length  by  twelve  or  fifteen  in  width, 
framed  of  sapling  poles  closely  covered  with  sheets  of  bark. 


THE   HURON.  77 

damp  boughs  drip,  and  renewed  itself  with  a  rush. 
Evident  vapor  arose  from  the  Indians  beside  the  fire. 

"  The  father's  boat  was  seen  upon  the  river,"  began 
Annahotaha.  "  I  have  sent  for  the  father  to  tell  him 
the  thoughts  which  come  up  in  my  breast  and  give 
me  no  peace.  I  am  a  tree  of  rough  bark,  but  I  bear 
a  flower  branch.  I  go  to  the  burning  and  my  branch 
of  flowers  will  not  be  cut  off  from  me.  I  am  an  old 
bear,  but  how  shall  I  make  the  Iroquois  feel  my  claws 
if  my  cub  be  beside  me  T  The  lodge  of  her  mother's 
people  is  not  fit  to  hold  her.  Continually  her  mother 
comes  to  me  in  dreams  saying,  '  What  have  you  done 
with  the  child  T  Shall  I  hang  my  branch  of  flowers 
in  the  lodges  of  my  people  f  Behold  the  remnant  of 
the  Hurons !  "  He  leaped  to  his  feet  with  energetic 
passion,  and  flung  his  pointed  finger  at  the  steaming 
braves  by  the  fire.  They  gave  an  instant's  attention 
to  his  voice,  and  went  on  toasting  themselves  as 
before.  "  We  are  trodden  underfoot  like  leaves.  The 
French,  our  white  brothers,  promise  us  protection, 
and  our  feeble  ones  are  dragged  to  the  stake  and 
scalped  before  their  eyes.  We  perish  from  the  earth. 
Soon  not  a  Huron  will  make  the  smoke  of  his  lodge  go 
up  beside  the  great  river.  But  before  these  Iroquois 
utterly  tread  our  bones  under  the  turf  they  shall  feel 
the  rage  of  Annahotaha.  The  last  Hurons  shall  heap 
them  up  in  destruction  ! " 

He  sat  down  and  rested  his  savage  face  on  his  fists. 


78  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

Massawippa  resumed  her  attitude  of  satisfied  tender- 
ness 5  and  shade  by  shade  his  wrath  lifted  until  the 
father  and  not  the  chief  again  looked  through  the 
red  of  his  mask-like  face. 

"  If  Annahotaha  is  leading  a  war  party  against  the 
Iroquois,"  began  Dollier  de  Casson  — 

"  Speak  not  of  that.  The  old  bear  knows  his  own 
track ;  but  no  way  for  the  tender  feet  of  his  cub." 

— "he  will  pass  through  Montreal,"  continued  the 
priest.  "  Now,  if  Annahotaha  wishes  to  keep  his  gift 
of  Heaven  from  contaminations  of  the  world,  why 
should  he  not  lay  her  on  the  sacred  altar?  Place  her 
with  the  sisters  of  St.  Joseph,  those  good  nuns  of  the 
H6tel-Dieu.» 

The  chief,  expectant  and  acquiescent,  kept  yet 
a  wily  side-glance  on  his  cassocked  guide.  Honest 
Dollier  de  Casson  brought  his  fist  with  a  gentle  spat 
upon  his  palm  as  he  proceeded. 

"No  Indian  woman  ever  hath  joined  the  pious 
labors  of  our  good  nuns.  You  Huron  s  clamor  with- 
out ceasing  for  protection  to  white  brothers  who  can 
scarcely  keep  their  own  scalps  on  their  heads,  but  the 
burdens  and  self-denials  of  our  holy  religion  ye  shirk. 
I  speak  truth  to  the  chief  of  the  Hurons.  You  even 
leave  your  farms  and  civilized  life  on  the  island  of 
Orleans,  and  take  to  the  woods." 

"  We  are  dragged  scalped  from  our  f arms,"  inter- 
jected Annahotaha7s  guttural  voice. 


THE   HURON.  79 

"  My  son,  the  power  of  Heaven  is  over  all.  We 
gasp  and  bleed  together ;  but,  see  you,  we  still  live. 
Miracles  are  continually  worked  for  us.  They  con- 
found even  the  dark  hearts  of  the  Iroquois." 

Annahotaha  smiled,  perhaps  with  some  reflection 
of  Quebec  distrust  in  Montreal  miracles. 

"  Hast  thou  not  heard,"  insisted  Father  de  Casson 
with  that  severe  credulity  which  afflicted  the  best 
men  of  the  time,  "  about  Jean  Saint-Pfere  —  slain  by 
the  Iroquois  and  beheaded,  and  his  head  carried 
off  —  speaking  to  them  in  warnings  and  upbraid- 
ings  ?  Yea,  the  scalped  skull  ceased  not  threatening 
them  with  the  vengeance  of  Heaven,  in  plain, 
well-spoken  Iroquois."  Annahotaha  sounded  some 
guttural  which  the  priest  could  not  receive  as 
assent. 

"  Blessed  is  a  country,  my  son,  when  such  notable 
miracles  are  done  in  it.  For,  see  you,  there  was 
Father  le  Maitre,  who  had  his  head  likewise  cut  off 
by  these  children  of  evil,  but  without  making  the  stain 
of  blood  on  his  handkerchief  which  received  it.  And 
there  were  his  features  stamped  on  the  cloth  so  that 
any  one  might  behold  them.  This  miracle  of  Father 
le  Maitre  hath  scarcely  ceased  to  ring  in  Montreal, 
for  it  is  a  late  thing.  I  counsel  the  chief  of  the 
Hurons  to  give  his  child  to  the  Church.  The  saints 
will  then  be  around  her  in  life,  and  in  death  they  will 
gather  her  to  themselves.7' 


80  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

Annahotaha  sat  as  if  turning  over  in  his  mind  this 
proposal,  which  he  had  secretly  foreseen  and  wished. 

"  The  father  has  spoken,"  he  finally  pronounced ; 
and  silence  closed  this  conference,  as  silence  had  pre- 
ceded it. 

Afterwards  Dollier  de  Casson  set  up  his  chapel 
beside  a  sheltering  rock  and  prepared  to  shrive  the 
Huron  camp,  beginning  with  Massawippa.  Her  he 
confessed  apart,  in  the  inclosure  of  the  lodge,  probing 
as  many  of  her  nature's  youthful  and  tortuous  avenues 
as  the  wisdom  of  man  could  penetrate.  She  raised  no 
objection  to  that  plan  of  life  her  father  and  her 
confessor  both  proposed  for  her;  but  the  priest 
could  not  afterwards  distinctly  recall  that  she  ac- 
cepted it. 

When  Father  de  Casson  called  the  congregation  of 
Indians  to  approach  his  temporary  chapel,  one  of  the 
restless  braves  who  had  sauntered  from  sputtering 
fire  to  dripping  tree  skulked  crouching  in  the  shadow 
of  Massawippa's  tent.  He  had  a  reason  for  avoiding 
the  priest  as  well  as  one  for  seeking  her. 

When  the  others  were  taken  up  with  their  devo- 
tions he  crept  to  the  tent-flap,  and  firelight  shone 
broadly  on  his  dark  side-countenance,  separating  him 
in  race  from  the  Hurons.  He  was  a  Frenchman.  But 
his  stiff  black  hair  was  close  shorn  except  one  bris- 
tling tuft,  his  oily  skin  had  been  touched  with  paint, 
and  he  wore  the  full  war-dress  of  his  foster  tribe. 


THE   HURON.  81 

"  Massawippa,"  whispered  this  proselyte,  raising  the 
lodge-flap,  "  I  have  something  here  for  you." 

The  girl  was  telling  her  beads  with  a  soft  mutter  in 
the  little  penances  her  priest  had  imposed  upon  her. 
He  could  see  but  her  blurred  figure  in  her  dim  shrine. 

"  Massawippa !  La  Mouche  brings  you  a  baked 
fish,"  he  whispered  in  the  provincial  French. 

Her  undisturbed  voice  continued  its  muttered 
orisons. 

"  Massawippa ! "  repeated  the  youth,  speaking  this 
time  in  Huron,  his  tone  entreating  piteously.  "  La 
Mouche  brings  you  a  baked  fish.  It  comes  but  now 
from  the  fire." 

Her  voice  ceased  with  an  indrawing  of  the  breath, 
and  she  hissed  at  La  Mouche. 

"  Return  it  then  to  the  fire  and  thyself  with  it,  thou 
French  log ! "  she  uttered  in  a  screaming  whisper  in 
Huron,  and  hissed  at  him  again  as  her  humble  lover 
dropped  the  lodge-flap. 

The  candles  shone  mellowly  from  the  *  sheltered 
altar  upon  kneeling  Indians,  but  La  Mouche  slunk 
off  into  the  darkness. 


IX. 

THE  LADY  OF  ST.  BERNARD. 

[IVE  evenings  later  a  boat  was  beached 
on  one  of  the  islands  above  Montreal 
lying  near  the  south  shore  of  the  St. 
Lawrence.  While  this  island  pre- 
sented rocky  points,  it  had  fertile 
slopes  basking  in  the  glow  which  followed  a  blue  and 
vaporous  April  day,  and  trees  in  that  state  of  gray 
greenness  which  shoots  into  leaf  at  the  first  hot 
shining. 

The  principal  object  on  the  island  was  a  stone  house 
standing  inclosed  by  strong  palisades  above  the  ascent 
from  the  beach.  It  appeared  to  be  built  against  a 
mass  of  perpendicular  rock  that  towered  over  it  on 
the  west  side.  This  was,  in  fact,  the  strongest  seign- 
iorial mansion  west  of  the  Richelieu.  There  was,  in 
addition,  a  small  stone  mill  for  grinding  grain,  apart 
from  it  on  the  brink  of  the  river. 


THE    LADT   OF   ST.  BERNARD.  83 

Northward,  the  St.  Lawrence  spread  towards  the 
horizon  in  that  distension  of  its  waters  called  Lake 
St.  Louis. 

Out  of  the  palisade  door  came  a  censitaire  and  his 
wife,  who,  having  hurried  to  St.  Bernard  for  protec- 
tion at  an  alarm  of  Indians,  staid  to  guard  the  seign- 
iory house  during  Jacques  Goffinef  s  absence  with 
Bollard. 

"  This  is  St.  Bernard/'  said  Dollard,  leading  Claire 
up  the  slope.  "  Sometimes  fog-covered,  sometimes 
wind-swept,  green  as  only  islands  can  be,  and  stone- 
girdled  as  the  St.  Lawrence  islands  are.  A  cluster 
up-river  belongs  to  the  seigniory,  but  this  is  your 
fortress." 

"And  yours,"  she  added. 

"  It  will  seem  very  rude  to  you." 

"After  my  life  of  convent  luxury,  monsieur!" 

"After  the  old  civilization  of  France.  But  I  believe 
this  can  be  made  quite  comfortable." 

"It  looks  delicious  and  grim,"  said  the  bride. 
"Tragic  things  might  happen  here  if  there  be  a 
tragic  side  to  life,  which  I  cannot  now  believe.  Yet 
a  few  months  ago  I  said  there  was  no  happiness  !  " 

Dollard  turned  his  uneasy  glance  from  her  to  the 
seigniory  house. 

"  There  is  scarcely  such  another  private  stronghold 
in  the  province." 

"  Did  you  build  it  t" 


84  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

"Not  I.  Poor  Bollard  brought  little  here  but  his 
sword.  One  of  my  superior  officers  abandoned  it  in 
my  favor,  and  took  a  less  exposed  seigniory  near  the 
Richelieu.  I  wish  the  inside  appointments  better 
befitted  you.  It  was  a  grand  cMteau  to  me  until 
I  now  compare  it  with  its  chatelaine.7' 

"Never  mind,  monsieur.  When  you  demand  my 
fortune  from  France,  you  can  make  your  cMteau  as 
grand  as  you  desire.  I  hope  you  will  get  some  good 
of  my  fortune,  for  I  never  have  done  so.  Seriously, 
monsieur,  if  no  house  were  here,  and  there  were  only 
that  great  rock  to  shelter  us,  I  should  feel  myself  a 
queen  if  you  brought  me  to  it,  so  great  is  my  lot." 

"  You  can  say  this  to  poor  Adam  Bollard,  an  ob- 
scure soldier  of  the  province  ?  " 

"  In  these  few  days,"  replied  the  girl,  laughing,  and 
she  threw  the  light  of  her  topaz  eyes  half  towards  him, 
"the  way  they  call  your  name  in  this  new  country 
has  become  to  me  like  a  title." 

"You  shall  have  more  than  a  title,"  burst  out 
Bollard.  "  Heaven  helping  me,  you  shall  yet  have  a 
name  that  will  not  die  ! " 

They  passed  through  the  gate  of  the  palisade, 
Jacques  and  Louise  following  with  the  loads  of  the 
expedition.  To  insure  its  safety  the  boat  was 
afterwards  dragged  within  the  palisade. 

The  censitaire  in  charge,  with  his  wife  at  his 
shoulder,  stood  grinning  at  Jacques's  approach. 


THE   LADY   OF   ST.  BERNARD.  85 

"  Thou  gotfst  thyself  a  wife,  h6,  my  pretty  Jacques  t " 

"That  did  I,  bonhomme  Papillon.  And  a  good 
wife,  and  a  stout  wife,  and  a  handsome.  Thou  'It 
want  to  go  to  Quebec  market  thyself  when  the 
Indians  carry  off  Joan." 

"  Let  me  see  him  go  to  the  Quebec  market ! n  cried 
Joan,  shaking  her  knuckled  fist  under  his  ear. 

"  It  would  trouble  thee  little  to  lose  sight  of  him, 
Joan.  But  his  coming  back  with  such  freight —  it  is 
that  would  fire  thee  hotter  than  Iroquois  torches. 
Alas,  my  children,"  Jacques  said,  letting  down  his 
load  inside  the  gate,  "I  bring  much,  but  I  leave 
much  behind.  If  I  am  to  hold  this  seigniory  while 
my  commandant  is  away,  and  feed  ye  both  and  my 
new  wife,  to  say  naught  of  Mademoiselle  de  Gran- 
ville  and  our  great  lady,  I  need  the  cattle  and  swine 
and  fowls  which  our  king  gave  me  for  dower  and  my 
seignior  made  me  throw  over  my  shoulder ." 

"But  I  thought,"  said  Louise,  in  dismay,  "that 
thou  had'st  such  stores  of  vegetables  and  other  pro- 
visions here." 

"Have  no  fear,  my  spouse.  Thou  shalt  see  how 
this  garrison  is  provisioned.  But  what  prudent  man 
can  drop  without  a  sigh  the  moiety  of  his  wife's 
fortune?  Here  are  Papillon  and  Joan,  who  hold  the 
next  island  under  our  seignior.  And  here,  timid 
Joan,  is  thy  soldierly  new  neighbor  Louise  Goffinet, 
who  squealed  not  in  the  dangers  of  the  river." 


86  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

"  Wert  thou  afraid  1 n  Joan  asked  Louise,  kindly. 

"  I  was  until  I  saw  Madame  des  Ormeaux  was  not. 
And  the  Indians  have  a  wonderful  skill." 

"  Did  the  commandant  also  marry  her  at  the  wife 
market?"  pressed  Joan,  walking  by  Louise's  side 
behind  the  men.  "  She  is  surely  the  fairest  woman 
in  New  France.  I  could  have  crawled  before  her 
when  she  gave  me  a  smile." 

"  My  mother  nursed  her,"  said  Louise,  with  pride. 

"  Did  she  so !  And  is  our  lady  some  great  dame 
from  the  king's  court,  who  heard  of  the  commandant 
at  Montreal  ? " 

"Thou  hast  woman  wit.  It  is  exactly  as  thou 
sayest,"  bragged  Jacques,  turning  towards  the  mum- 
mied face  of  Papillon's  simple  wife.  "  She  is  cousin 
to  our  holy  bishop  himself  5  and  even  that  great  man 
she  left  grinning  and  biting  his  nails,  for  he  and  the 
abbess  they  would  make  a  nun  of  her.  Thou  dost  not 
know  the  mightiness  of  her  family.  My  Louise  can 
charm  thee  with  all  that.  But  this  lady  was  a  princess 
in  France,  and  voyaged  here  by  the  king's  ship,  being 
vilely  sickened  and  tossed  about;  and  all  for  my 
commandant.  Is  not  the  Sieur  des  Ormeaux  known 
in  France?"  Jacques  snapped  his  fingers  high  in 
air. 

The  lowest  floor  of  the  seigniory  house  was  the  rock 
on  which  it  was  based.  Here  and  within  the  stockade 
were  such  domestic  animals  as  belonged  to  the  island. 


THE   LADY   OF  ST.  BERNARD.  87 

A  sheep  rubbed  against  Louise,  passing  out  as  she 
passed  in. 

She  looked  around  the  darkened  strong  walls,  un- 
pierced  by  even  a  loophole,  at  the  stores  of  provender 
for  dumb  and  human  inmates.  Jacques  had  under- 
estimated his  wealth  in  collected  food.  His  magazine 
seemed  still  overflowing  when  it  was  spring  and  seed- 
time, and  the  dearth  of  winter  nearly  past. 

A  stone  staircase  twisted  itself  in  giving  ascent 
to  the  next  floor.  Here  were  sleeping-cells  for  the 
seignior's  servants,  and  a  huge  kitchen  having  pillars 
of  cemented  rock  across  its  center,  and  a  fire-place  like 
a  cave.  Lancelike  windows  gave  it  light,  and  in  the 
walls  were  loopholes  which  had  been  stopped  with 
stone  to  keep  out  the  Canadian  winter. 

A  broader  stairway  of  tough  and  well-dried  wood 
in  one  corner  led  up  to  the  seignior's  apartment 
above,  which  was  divided  into  several  rooms.  The 
largest  one,  the  saloon  of  the  mansion,  had  also  its 
cavern  fire-place  where  pieces  of  wood  were  smolder- 
ing. A  brass  candelabrum  stood  on  the  mantel. 
Rugs  of  fawn  skin  beautifully  spotted,  and  of  bear 
skin  relieved  the  dark  unpolished  floor.  The  walls  of 
all  the  rooms  were  finished  with  a  coarse  plaster  glit- 
tering with  river  sand.  Some  slender-legged  chairs, 
a  high-backed  cushioned  bench,  a  couch  covered  by 
moth-eaten  tapestry,  and  a  round  black  table  furnished 
this  drawing-room.  Some  cast-off  pieces  of  armor 


88  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

hung  over  the  mantel,  and  an  embroidery  frame  stood 
at  one  side  of  the  hearth. 

There  was  but  one  window,  and  it  swung  outward 
on  hinges,  the  sash  being  fitted  with  small  square 
panes. 

When  Claire  appeared  from  the  private  chamber 
where  she  had  been  taken  to  refresh  herself  with 
Louise  to  attend  on  her,  Dollard  came  down  the  room, 
took  her  by  the  hands,  and  led  her  to  this  window. 
He  pushed  the  sash  open  quite  out  of  their  way,  and 
thus  set  the  landscape  in  a  deep  frame  of  stone  wall. 

The  two  young  lovers  still  met  each  other  with  shy- 
ness and  reserve.  From  the  hour  of  his  impetuous 
marriage  Dollard  had  watched  his  wife  with  passion- 
ate solicitude.  But  that  day  when  his  boat  approached 
Montreal  he  had  it  brought  to  the  dock  and  went 
ashore  by  himself,  spending  what  Claire  considered 
the  best  hours  of  the  afternoon  at  the  fort  and  on  the 
streets,  coming  back  flushed  and  repressed. 

She  felt  the  energetic  pulses  still  beating  in  his 
face  as  he  touched  her  forehead. 

"You  see  now  the  way  we  came,"  said  Dollard, 
indicating  the  St.  Lawrence  sweeping  towards  the 
east. 

"A  lovely  way  it  was,"  said  Claire.  The  river's 
breath  came  to  them  fresh  and  clean,  leaving  a  touch 
of  dampness  on  the  skin.  Already  the  wooded  south 
shore  was  clothing  itself  in  purple,  but  northward 


THE   LADY   OF  ST.  BERNARD.  89 

the  expanse  of  water  still  held  to  what  it  had  re- 
ceived from  sunset.  "  That  was  very  different  from 
the  voyage  on  shipboard." 

"Are  you  not  tired f  " 

"I  was  tired  only  once — at  Montreal,"  hinted 
Claire,  gazing  at  the  extremity  of  the  island 

"Again  I  beg  you  to  pardon  that.  I  had  been 
nearly  ten  days  away  from  my  command  and  there 
were  serious  matters  to  attend  to.  Put  it  out  of  your 
mind  and  let  us  be  very  happy  this  evening." 

"  And  every  following  evening.  That  goes  without 
saying." 

"  I  must  report  at  my  fortress  at  daybreak  to-mor- 
row." 

"You  should  have  left  my  caskets  at  Montreal, 
monsieur,"  exclaimed  Claire.  "I  could  do  without 
them  here  one  night." 

"  You  want  to  turn  your  back  on  poor  St.  Bernard 
immediately  I " 

"  Monsieur,  you  do  not  mean  to  separate  yourself 
.  from  me  f "  she  inquired  lightly,  keeping  control  of 
her  trembling  voice. 

"  I  brought  you  here  to  take  possession  of  my 
land,"  said  Dollard. 

"  I  have  taken  possession.  The  keys  of  the  house 
of  course  I  do  not  want.  They  shall  in  all  courtesy 
be  left  with  the  resident  ch&telaine,  your  sister.  Mon- 
sieur, where  is  your  sister! " 


90  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

Dollard  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the  embroiderj 
frame. 

"  She  has  been  here  or  is  coming.  I  have  hardly 
prepared  you  for  poor  Ren6e.  She  lives  in  delusions 
of  her  own,  and  pays  little  regard  to  the  courtesies  of 
the  outside  world.  My  excellent  Jacques  waits  on 
her  as  on  a  child." 

"  Doubtless  I  thought  too  little  about  her,"  Claire 
said,  visibly  shrinking.  "  She  may  object  to  me." 

"  She  will  not  even  see  you  unless  I  put  you  before 
her  eyes." 

"What  ails  your  sister,  monsieur?  Is  she  a  re- 
ligious devotee?" 

"  Not  strictly  that.  She  is  a  nurser  of  delusions. 
I  cannot  remember  when  she  was  otherwise,  though 
we  have  lived  little  together,  for  poor  Ren6e  is  but 
my  half-sister.  Her  father  was  a  De  Granville.  You 
will  not  feel  afraid  of  her  when  you  have  seen  her ; 
she  is  not  unkind.  She  has  her  own  chambers  at  the 
rock  side  of  the  house  and  lives  there  weeks  together. 
I  see  her  embroidery  frame  is  set  out,  and  that  means 
we  may  expect  her  presence." 

While  he  was  speaking,  Mademoiselle  de  Granville 
had  opened  a  door  at  the  end  of  the  room. 

Claire,  with  well-opened  eyes,  pressed  backward 
against  her  husband,  so  moldered-looking  a  creature 
was  this  lady  gliding  on  silent  feet  —  not  unlike  some 
specter  of  the  Des  Ormeaux  who  had  followed  their 


THE   LADY    OF  ST.  BERNARD.  91 

last  chevalier  under  the  New  World's  glaring  skies. 
She  wore  a  brocaded  gown,  the  remnant  of  a  court 
costume  of  some  former  reign,  and  her  face  was 
covered  with  a  black  silk  mask.  Though  masks 
were  then  in  common  use,  the  eyes  which  looked 
through  this  one  were  like  the  eyes  of  a  sleep-walker. 
She  sat  down  by  the  embroidery  frame  as  if  alone 
in  the  room,  but  instead  of  a  web  of  needlework  she 
began  to  fasten  in  the  frame  one  end  of  a  priest's 
stole  much  in  need  of  mending. 

Dollard  led  his  wife  to  this  silent  figure. 

"  My  dear  Ren6e,"  he  said,  taking  hold  of  the  stole 
and  thereby  establishing  a  nerve  of  communication, 
"  let  me  present  my  beautiful  wife." 

The  figure  looked  up,  unsurprised  but  attentive. 

"  She  was  Mademoiselle  Laval-Montmorency." 

With  deference  the  figure  rose  off  its  slim-legged 
chair  and  made  a  deep  courtesy,  Claire  acknowledg- 
ing it  with  one  equally  deep. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  petitioned  the  bride,  "  I  hope  my 
sudden  coming  causes  you  no  trouble,  though  we 
return  to  the  fort  soon." 

The  mask  gazed  at  her  but  said  nothing. 

"  Are  you  never  lonely  here  upon  this  island  T "  pur- 
sued Claire. 

The  mask's  steady  gaze  made  her  shiver. 

"  She  does  not  talk,"  Dollard  explained.  He  drew 
his  wife  away  from  the  silent  woman  and  suggested, 

7 


92  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

"Let  us  walk  up  and  down  until  some  supper  is 
served,  to  get  rid  of  the  boat's  cramping." 

Mademoiselle  de  G-ranville  sat  down  and  continued 
to  arrange  her  darning. 

Whenever  they  were  quite  at  the  room's  end  Claire 
drew  a  free  breath,  but  always  in  passing  the  masked 
presence  she  shrunk  bodily  against  Dollard,  for  the 
room  was  narrow.  He,  with  tense  nerves  and  far- 
looking  eyes,  failed  to  notice  this.  The  eccentricities 
of  any  man's  female  relatives  appeal  to  his  blindest 
side.  Custom  has  used  him  to  them,  and  his  own 
blood  speaks  their  apology. 

The  river  air  blew  into  the  open  window.  There 
were  no  sounds  except  the  footsteps  of  Dollard  and 
Claire,  and  a  stirring  of  the  household  below  Tfrhich 
was  hint  of  sound  only,  so  thick  were  the  walls  and 
floors. 

In  due  time  Jacques  came  up,  bearing  the  supper. 
His  seignior  when  at  St.  Bernard  ate  in  the  kitchen. 
But  this  was  a  descent  unbefitting  a  grand  bride. 
While  Jacques  was  preparing  the  round  table,  Claire 
stole  another  look  towards  the  mask  which  must  now 
be  removed.  But  by  some  sudden  and  noiseless  pro- 
cess known  to  recluse  women  Mademoiselle  de  Gran- 
ville  had  already  taken  herself  and  her  embroidery 
frame  out  of  the  room. 


X. 

THE  SEIGNIORY  KITCHEN. 

^BOUT  1  o'clock  of  the  night  Jacques  rose 
from  his  sleeping-cell,  as  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  doing,  to  put  more  wood  on 
the  kitchen  fire. 

The  window  slits  let  in  some  moon- 
light of  a  bluish  quality,  but  the  larger  part  of  this 
wide  space  lay  in  shadow  until  Jacques  sent  over  it 
the  ruddiness  of  a  revived  fire.  Out  of  uncertainty 
came  the  doors  of  the  sleeping-cells,  the  rafters  and 
dried  herbs  which  hung  from  them,  heavy  table  and 
benches  and  stools,  cooking-vessels,  guns,  bags  of 
stored  grain,  and  the  figures  of  the  four  Hurons, 
two  at  each  side  of  the  hearth,  stretched  out  in  their 
blankets  with  their  heels  to  the  fire  —  and  Jacques 
himself,  disordered  from  sleep  and  imperfectly  thrust 
into  lower  garments.  He  lingered  stupidly  looking 
at  the  magician  fire  while  it  rose  and  crackled 

W 


94  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

and  cast  long  oblique  shadows  with  the  cemented 
posts. 

Dollard  descended  the  stairway  from  his  apartment, 
pressing  down  his  sword-hilt  to  keep  the  scabbard 
from  clanking  on  each  step.  He  was  entirely  dressed 
in  his  uniform.  As  he  approached  the  fire  and 
Jacques  turned  towards  him,  his  face  looked  blood- 
less, his  features  standing  high,  the  forehead  well 
reared  back. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  awake,"  he  said  to  Jacques,  half 
aloud.  "Are  the  others  asleep  ?  "  indicating  those  cells 
occupied  by  Louise  and  the  Papillon  family.  There 
was  no  questioning  the  deep  slumber  which  inclosed 
his  Indians. 

"  Yes,  m'sieur." 

"Have  you  packed  the  provisions  I  directed  you 
to  pack?" 

"  Yes,  m'sieur.  M'sieur,  you  do  not  leave  at  this 
hour?" 

"  At  once.77 

"  But,  m'sieur,  the  Lachine  is  hard  enough  to  run 
in  daytime.77 

"There  is  broad  moonlight.  Are  you  sure  you 
understand  everything  ? 77 

"  M7sieur,  I  hope  I  do.     Have  you  told  madame  ?" 

Dollard  wheeled  and  flung  his  clinched  hands  above 
his  head  as  men  do  on  receiving  gunshot  wounds. 


THE   SEIGNIORY   KITCHEN.  95 

"  O  saints !  I  cannot  tell  her !  I  am  a  wretch,  Jacques. 
She  has  been  happy;  I  have  not  caused  her  a  mo- 
ment's suffering.  Let  her  sleep  till  morning.  Tell 
her  then  merely  that  I  have  gone  to  my  fortress; 
that  I  would  not  expose  her  to  the  dangers  of  the 
route  by  night.  It  will  soon  be  over  now.  Sometime 
she  can  forgive  this  cruelty  if  a  deed  goes  after  it  to 
make  her  proud.  She  has  proud  blood,  my  boy ;  she 
loves  honor.  Oh,  what  a  raving  madman  I  was  to 
marry  her,  my  beloved !  I  thought  it  could  do  her  no 
harm — that  it  could  not  shake  my  purpose!  O  my 
Claire!  O  my  poor  New  France!  Torn  this  way,  I 
deserve  shame  with  death — no  martyr's  crown — no 
touch  of  glory  to  lighten  my  darkness  for  ever  and 
ever ! " 

"  M'sieur,"  whimpered  Jacques,  crouching  and  wip- 
ing nose  and  eyes  with  his  palms,  "  don't  say  that ! 
My  little  master,  my  pretty,  my  dear  boy !  These 
women  have  the  trick  of  tripping  a  man  up  when  he 
sets  his  foot  to  any  enterprise." 

"  Hear  me,"  said  Dollard,  grasping  him  on  each 
side  of  the  collar.  "  She  is  the  last  of  the  Des  Or- 
meaux  to  you.  Serve  her  faithfully  as  you  serve  the 
queen  of  heaven.  If  she  wants  to  go  back  to  Prance, 
go  with  her.  Before  this  I  bequeathed  you  St.  Ber- 
nard. Now  I  am  leaving  you  a  priceless  charge. 
Your  wife  shall  obey  and  follow  her  to  the  ends  of 


96  THE    ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

the  earth.  To-day  I  altered  my  will  in  Montreal  and 
gave  her  my  last  coin,  gave  her  my  seigniory,  I  gave 
her  you  !  Do  you  refuse  to  obey  my  last  commands  ? 
Do  you  disallow  my  rights  in  you  ?  " 

Jacques's  puckered  face  unflinchingly  turned  up- 
ward and  met  the  stare  of  his  master. 

"  M'sieur,  I  will  follow  my  lady's  whims  and  do 
your  commands  to  the  hour  of  my  death." 

Dollard,  like  a  mastiff,  shook  him. 

"  Is  there  any  treachery  in  you,  Jacques  Goffinet, 
free  follower  of  the  house  of  Des  Ormeaux  I  If  there 
is,  out  with  it  now,  or  my  dead  eyes  will  pry  through 
you  hereafter." 

"  M'sieur,"  answered  Jacques,  lifting  his  hand  and 
making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  "  I  am  true  man  to  my 
core.  I  do  love  to  pile  good  stuff  together  and  call 
land  mine,  but  thou  knowest  I  love  a  bit  of  cloth 
from  one  of  thy  old  garments  better  than  all  the 
seigniories  in  New  France." 

Dollard  let  go  Jacques's  collar  and  extended  his 
arms  around  the  stumpy  man's  neck. 

"  My  good  old  Jacques  !     My  good  old  Jacques  !  " 

"  How  proud  I  have  always  been  of  thee ! "  choked 
Jacques. 

"  I  have  told  her  to  depend  on  you,  Jacques.  The 
will  I  brought  home  in  my  breast  and  placed  among 
her  caskets.  She  will  provide  for  Louise  and  you, 
and  she  will  provide  for  poor  Renee,  also.  Kick  the 


THE   SEIGNIORY   KITCHEN.  97 

Indians  and  wake  them  up.  There  is  not  another 
moment  to  spare." 

The  Indians  were  roused,  and  stood  up  taciturn 
and  ready  for  action,  drawing  their  blankets  around 
themselves.  These  Hurons,  vagrants  from  Annaho- 
taha's  tribe,  were  hangers-on  about  the  fortress  at 
Montreal.  Jacques  gave  them  each  a  careful  dram, 
and  lighted  at  the  fire  a  dipped  candle.  With  this 
feeble  light  he  penetrated  the  darkness  of  the  cellar 
floor,  leading  the  party  down  its  tortuous  staircase. 

Dollard,  who  had  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  door- 
latch,  was  the  last  to  leave  the  upper  room.  His 
questions  followed  Jacques  around  the  turns  of  the 
stairs. 

"  You  are  well  provisioned,  Jacques  f w 

"  Yes,  m'sieur." 

"  At  daybreak  you  will  remember  to  have  Papillon 
help  you  bring  in  an  abundant  supply  of  water  t " 

"  Yes,  m'sieur." 

"Bar  the  doors  when  you  see  any  one  approaching 
and  keep  watch  on  all  sides  every  day." 

"  Yes,  m'sieur." 

Jacques  jammed  his  candle-end  into  a  crack  of  the 
rock  floor,  undid  the  fastenings,  and  with  a  jerk  let 
the  moonlight  in  on  their  semi-darkness. 

They  went  out  to  the  palisade  gate,  the  Indians 
dragged  the  boat  carefully  to  its  launching,  and 
Jacques  stored  in  it  Dollard's  provisions. 


98  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAZD. 

"  Good-bye,  my  man,"  said  Bollard. 

"M'sieur,"  said  Jacques,  "I  have  always  obeyed 
you.  There  is  but  one  thing  in  my  heart  against 
you,  and  I  will  cleanse  myself  of  that  now." 

"  Quickly,  then."  The  young  man  had  one  foot  in 
the  boat. 

"  It  is  the  same  old  hard  spot.  Thou  wouldst  rule 
me  out  of  this  expedition.  A  man  that  loves  thee  as 
I  love  thee  ! " 

"Jacques,  if  I  had  reasons  before  on  Renews 
account,  what  reasons  have  I  not  now?" 

"  Bless  thee,  my  master  Adam  Baulac  ! " 

"  Bless  thee,  my  Jacques ! " 

The  boat  shot  off,  and  Jacques  went  in  and 
fastened  the  gate  and  the  door. 


XI. 

MADEMOISELLE  DE  GRANVILLE'S 
BROTHER. 

iOON  after  1  o'clock  Claire  awoke  and  sat 
upright  in  her  dim  room.  Her  alarm  at 
the  absence  of  Dollard  was  swallowed 
instantly  by  greater  alarm  at  the  presence 
of  some  one  else. 
This  small  chamber,  like  the  saloon,  was  lighted  by 
one  square  window,  and  male  housekeeping  at  St. 
Bernard,  combined  with  the  quality  of  glass  manu- 
factured for  colonial  use  at  that  date,  veiled  generous 
moonlight  which  would  have  thrown  up  sharply  every 
object  in  the  severe  place. 

Claire's  garments,  folded  and  laid  upon  a  stool, 
were  motionless  to  her  expanding  eyes ;  so  were  her 
boxes  where  Louise  had  placed  them.  All  the  lug- 
gage which  a  young  lady  of  rank  then  carried  with 
her  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  could  be  lifted  upstairs 
in  the  arms  of  a  stout  maid.  Unstinting  was  the 

99 


100  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLABD. 

small  black  velvet  cap  which  Claire  had  chosen  from 
her  belongings  to  wear  during  the  voyage.  It  was 
stuck  against  the  wall  like  a  dim  blot  of  ink.  But 
nothing  else  visible  seemed  quite  so  motionless  and 
unstirring  as  the  figure  by  the  bed.  It  was  Mademoi- 
selle de  G-ranville.  Except  that  her  personality  was 
oppressive,  she  seemed  a  lifeless  lump  without  breath 
or  sight,  until  Claire's  tenser  pupils  adapted  to  duski- 
ness found  eyes  in  the  mask,  eyes  stiffly  gazing. 

The  bride's  voice  sunk  in  her  throat,  but  she  forced 
it  to  husky  action. 

"What  do  you  want?" 

Automatically,  holding  its  elbows  to  its  sides,  the 
figure  lifted  one  forearm  and  pointed  to  Claire's  gar- 
ments. 

"  Do  you  require  me  to  put  them  on  ? n 

It  continued  to  point. 

"  Be  so  kind  as  to  withdraw,  then,  and  I  will  put 
them  on." 

It  continued  to  point,  without  change  of  attitude 
or  sound  of  human  breath. 

The  girl  crept  out  of  her  couch  at  that  corner 
farthest  from  the  figure,  rolled  up  and  pinned  her 
white  curls  as  best  she  could,  and  assimilated  the 
garments  from  the  stool,  keeping  her  eye  braced 
repellantly  against  the  automaton  pointing  at  her. 
She  finished  by  drawing  her  mantle  over  her  dress, 
and  the  velvet  cap  over  her  hair. 


MDLLE.    DE    GRANVILLL'S    ZROT33R  101 

"  Now  I  am  ready,  if  you  are  determined  I  shall  go 
somewhere  with  you." 

The  figure  turned  itself  about  and  opened  the  door 
into  the  saloon.  Claire  followed,  keeping  far  behind 
those  silent  feet,  and  thus  they  walked  through  that 
grim  room  over  which  touches  of  beauty  had  never 
been  thrown  by  a  woman's  keeping. 

Claire  followed  into  another  chamber  and  was  shut 
in  darkness.  It  was  the  rock  side  of  the  house,  with- 
out moonlighted  windows.  Mademoiselle  de  Gran- 
ville  had  left  her,  and  she  stood  confused,  forget- 
ting which  way  she  should  turn  to  the  door-latch 
of  release.  The  absence  of  Dollard  now  rushed 
back  over  her,  and  helped  the  dark  to  heap  her 
with  terrors.  The  sanest  people  have  felt  sparks  of 
madness  flash  across  the  brain.  One  such  flash  created 
for  her  a  trap  in  the  floor  to  swallow  her  to  the 
depths  of  the  island. 

Directly  her  surroundings  were  lighted  by  a  door 
opening  to  an  inner  room.  A  priest  stood  there  in 
black  cassock,  his  face  smooth  and  dark,  his  eyes 
dark  and  attentive.  He  was  not  tonsured,  but  with 
hair  clustering  high  upon  his  head  he  looked  like 
Dollard  grown  to  sudden  middle  age,  his  fire  burnt 
to  ashes,  his  shoulders  bowed  by  penances,  his  soul 
dried  as  a  fern  might  be  dried  betwixt  the  wooden 
lids  of  his  breviary.  Behind  him  stood  an  altar,  two 
tall  candles  burning  upon  it,  and  above  the  altar 


102  'THIS   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

hung  a  crucifix.  She  took  note  of  nothing  else  in  the 
room. 

"  Pardon  me,  father ;  I  am  lost  in  the  house. 
Mademoiselle  de  Granville  brought  me  here  and  has 
left  me." 

"  Yes."  His  voice  had  depth  and  volume,  and  was 
like  Dollard's  voice  grown  older.  "  She  brought  you 
at  my  request." 

"  At  your  request,  father  ?  Where  is  Mademoiselle 
de  Granville  ? " 

"  In  that  closet,"  he  replied,  showing  a  door  at  the 
corner  of  his  chapel  room.  "  My  poor  lifeless  sister  is 
at  her  devotions." 

"I  see  my  way  now.  With  your  permission  I 
will  go  back,"  said  Claire.  This  unwholesome  priest 
like  a  demon  presentation  of  Dollard  made  her 
shudder. 

"  Stop,  Mademoiselle  Laval." 

"  I  am  Madame  des  Ormeaux ;  as  you  should  know, 
being  inmate  of  this  house  and  evidently  my  husband's 
brother." 

"  Mademoiselle  de  Granville  has  but  one  brother," 
said  the  priest. 

"  The  Sieur  des  Ormeaux  is  her  brother." 

"  There  is  no  Sieur  des  Ormeaux."  He  smiled  in 
making  the  assertion,  his  lips  parting  indulgently. 

"I  mean  Dollard,  commandant  of  the  fort  of 
Montreal." 


MDLLE.    DE    GRANVILLE1  S   BROTHER.          103 

"  There  is  no  Dollard,  commandant  of  the  fort  of 
Montreal  I  am  the  Abb6  de  Granville." 

Claire  silently  observed  him,  gathering  her  con- 
victions. The  priest  leaned  towards  her,  rubbing  his 
hands. 

"  This  misguided  soldier,  sometimes  called  Dollard, 
he  is  but  a  bad  dream  of  mine,  my  poor  child.  So 
keen  is  your  beauty  that  it  still  pierces  the  recollec- 
tion. In  my  last  dream  my  conscience  tells  me  I 
worked  some  harm  to  you.  Return  to  your  family, 
mademoiselle,  and  forgive  me.  I  have  become  myself 
again,  and  these  holy  tokens  recall  me  to  my  duty 
and  my  vows." 

"I  know  who  you  are,"  said  Claire.  "You  are 
Mademoiselle  de  Granville." 

"  I  am  the  Abb6  de  Granville.  Look  at  me."  He 
took  a  candle  from  the  altar  and  held  it  near  his  face. 
So  masculine  was  the  countenance  that  it  staggered 
conviction.  The  razor  had  left  sleekness  there.  The 
tone  of  flesh  was  man-like.  "  I  am  Dollard,"  he  said. 
"I  am  a  priest.  There  can  be,  of  course,  no  marriage 
between  us.  I  sent  for  you  to  ask  your  pardon,  and 
to  send  you  from  St.  Bernard." 

This  gross  and  stupid  cruelty  had  on  Claire  merely 
the  effect  of  steeping  her  in  color.  Her  face  and  throat 
blushed. 

"You  are  Mademoiselle  de  Granville,"  she  re- 
peated. 


104  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

The  priest,  as  if  weary  of  enforcing  his  explana- 
tions, waved  his  fingers  with  a  gesture  of  dismissal 
in  Dollard's  own  manner. 

"  I  am  the  Abb6  de  Granville.  But  we  will  discuss 
the  subject  no  further.  I  must  be  at  my  prayers.  A 
trustworthy  witness  shall  confirm  what  I  have  told 
you." 

He  opened  the  closet  door,  carrying  the  candle  with 
him.  His  tread  had  body  and  sound,  though  his  feet 
were  shod  in  sandals. 

Claire  moved  guardedly  after  him.  He  crossed  the 
closet  and  entered  a  long  passage  so  narrow  that  two 
persons  could  scarcely  walk  abreast  in  it,  nor  did  she 
covet  the  privilege  of  stepping  it  thus  with  her  con- 
ductor. 

As  she  crossed  the  closet  her  rapid  eye  searched  it 
for  the  chrysalis  of  Mademoiselle  de  Granville.  The 
candle  was  already  in  the  passage  beyond,  but  distinct 
enough  lay  that  brocaded  figure  prostrate  on  the  floor 
beneath  a  crucifix,  but  the  mask  faced  Claire. 

She  moved  on  behind  Abbe  de  Granville  as  with 
masculine  tread  of  foot  he  strode  the  length  of  the 
passage  and  opened  a  door  leading  out  on  the  stairway. 

"Here,  Jacques/7  he  called  in  his  mellow  tones, 
"tell  this  demoiselle  about  me;  and  tell  her  the 
truth,  or  it  shall  be  the  worse  for  you." 

Claire,  standing  on  the  upper  stairs,  could  see 
Jacques  with  his  back  to  the  fire  and  his  mouth 


"  I  know  who  you  are. 


MDLLE.    DE    GRANVILLE'S   BROTHER.          105 

opened  in  consternation  at  this  unpriestly  threat.  His 
candle  was  yet  smoking,  so  lately  had  it  been  divorced 
from  its  flame. 

Abb6  de  Granville  closed  the  passage  door  and 
bolted  it. 

She  went  down  into  the  kitchen  and  Jacques 
brought  her  a  seat,  placed  her  before  the  middle 
hearth,  and  stationed  himself  at  the  corner  in  an 
attitude  of  entire  dejection.  The  other  inmates  rested 
in  unbroken  sleep.  The  cell  occupied  by  Papillon 
and  his  wife  resounded  with  a  low  guttural  duet. 

"  Where  is  Sieur  des  Ormeaux,  Jacques  !  "  inquired 
the  lady  of  St.  Bernard. 

Writhing  betwixt  two  dilemmas,  Dollard's  follower 
cunningly  seized  upon  the  less  painful  one,  and 
nodded  up  the  stairway. 

"  He  's  been  out  again,  has  he  1" 

"Do  you  mean  the  priest t" 

"  Monsieur  the  abb6." 

"  Jacques,  who  is  he  t " 

"  The  Abb6  de  Granville,"  replied  Jacques  with  a 
shrug,  first  of  one  shoulder  and  then  the  other,  as  if 
the  sides  of  his  person  took  turns  in  rejecting  this 
statement.  "  And  he  sends  you  to  me  for  the  truth, 
madame.  Is  not  that  the  craziest  part  of  the  play 
when  he  knows  what  I  will  teD  you  f  There  is  no 
limiting  a  woman,  madame,  when  she  takes  to 
whims." 


106  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

"  Then  it  really  was  Mademoiselle  de  Granville 
playing  priest  ? " 

"  Madame,  she  befools  me  sometimes  until  I  know 
not  whether  to  think  her  man  or  woman.  So  secret  is 
this  half-sister  of  my  master's,  and  so  jealous  of  her 
pretty  abb6,  it  unsettles  a  plain  soldier.  A  fine  big 
robust  priest  he  is,  and  you  would  take  her  for  a 
ghost  in  petticoats.  It  goes  against  my  conscience, 
so  that  I  have  come  nigh  to  mention  it  in  confession, 
all  this  mumming  and  male-attiring,  and  even  calling 
for  hot  shaving- water !  Yet  she  seems  an  excellent 
devoted  soul  when  no  one  crosses  her,  and  for  days 
at  a  time  will  be  Mademoiselle  de  Granville,  as  gentle 
and  timid  as  a  sheep.  Besides,  women  take  pleasure 
in  putting  on  raiment  of  different  kinds,  and  when 
you  come  to  look  at  a  priest's  cassock,  it  is  not  so  far 
from  being  a  petticoat  that  I  need  to  raise  a  scandal 
against  St.  Bernard  and  my  commandant's  sister  on 
account  of  it.  M'sieur  he  minds  none  of  her  pranks, 
and  she  hath  had  her  humor  since  I  was  set  to  keep 
guard  over  her ;  and  if  it  be  a  mad  humor,  it  harms 
no  one  but  herself."  * 

Claire's  glance  rested  on  the  coarse  floor  where 
many  nailed  shoes  had  left  their  prints  in  the 
grain. 

*  The  legend  of  Mademoiselle  de  Granville  dates  from  the  year 
1698.  It  seemed  but  a  slight  anachronism  to  place  this  singu- 
lar though  unimportant  figure  in  the  year  1660. 


MDLLE.    DE    GRANVILLE'S    BROTHER. 

"  Such  a  monomaniac  cannot  be  a  pleasant  house- 
mate." 

"  No,  madame ;  the  poor  lady  is  not  charming. 
And  she  will  have  the  biggest  of  candles  for  her 
altar.  But  then  she  must  amuse  herself.  I  was, 
indeed,  speechless  when  I  saw  her  turn  you  out  on 
the  stairway.  She  does  not  like  a  woman  about, 
especially  a  pretty  woman,  and  doubtless  she  will 
dismiss  my  Louise  many  times.  But,  madame,  let 
me  entreat  you  to  return  to  sleep  and  have  no  fear. 
I  will  even  lock  the  doors  of  her  chambers.  She  will 
disturb  you  no  more." 

Claire  listened  aside  to  some  outer  sound,  and  then 
exclaimed : 

"You  did  not  tell  me  where  the  commandant  is, 
Jacques.  He  has  not  gone  back  to  his  fortress,  with- 
out me  t w 

Jacques's  face  fell  into  creases  of  anguish. 

"  Madame,  he  said  you  were  to  sleep  undisturbed 
till  morning." 

"  He  should  have  obtained  Mademoiselle  de  Gran- 
ville's  consent  to  that.  This  is  not  answering  a  ques- 
tion I  have  already  repeated  to  you." 

"Madame,  he  has  taken  the  Indians  and  gone  in 
his  boat.  Soldiers  must  do  all  sorts  of  things, 
especially  commandants.  He  would  not  expose  you 
to  the  dangers  of  the  route  by  night." 

"  Listen ! "  Her  expression  changed. 


108  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLABD. 

Jacques  gladly  listened. 

"  I  was  sure  I  heard  some  noise  before !  You  see 
you  are  mistaken.  He  is  not  yet  gone.'7 

Mellow  relief,  powerful  as  sunshine,  softened  the 
swarthy  pallor  of  Jacques's  face.  He  caught  his 
candle  from  the  chimney  shelf  and  jammed  its 
charred  wick  against  a  glowing  coral  knot  in  the 
log. 

"  Madame,  that  7s  m'sieur  at  the  gate.  I  know  his 
stroke  and  his  call.  I'll  bring  him  up.77 

No  man  can  surely  say,  with  all  his  ancestry  at  his 
back  and  his  unproved  nature  within,  what  he  can  or 
cannot  do  in  certain  crises  of  his  life. 

"What  is  it,  m'sieur?77  exclaimed  Jacques  as  he 
let  Bollard  through  the  gate. 

"We  went  scarce  a  quarter  of  a  league.  I  came 
back  because  I  cannot  leave  her  without  telling  her ; 
it  was  a  cowardly  act ! 77  exclaimed  Dollard,  darting 
into  the  house.  "She  must  go  with  me  to  Mont- 
real.77 


XII. 
DOLLABD'S    CONFESSION. 


P  Dollard  was  surprised  at  finding  Claire  stand- 
ing  by  the  fire  dressed  for  her  journey,  he 
gave  himself  no  time  for  uttering  it,  but 
directed  Jacques  to  bring  down  madame's 
boxes  and  to  wake  Louise. 


"One  casket  will  be  enough,  Jacques/'  counter- 
manded madame ;  "  the  one  which  has  been  opened. 
If  there  is  such  haste,  the  others  can  be  sent  hereafter. 
As  for  my  poor  Louise,  I  will  not  have  her  waked ; 
this  is  but  her  second  night's  sleep  on  land.  Some 
one  can  be  found  in  Montreal  to  attend  me,  and  I 
shall  see  her  again  soon." 

Jacques  shuffled  down  from  his  master's  apartment, 
carrying  the  luggage  on  his  shoulder  and  his  candle 
in  one  hand.  Dollard  waited  for  him,  to  say  aside : 

"  In  three  weeks  come  to  Montreal  and  ask  for  your 
lady  at  the  governor's  house.  Subject  yourself  to  her 
orders  thenceforward." 

109 


HO  THE    ROMANCE    OF   DOLLAED. 

"  Yes,  m'sieur,"  grunted  Jacques. 

Again  his  candle  on  the  twisted  staircase  caused 
great  shadows  to  stalk  through  the  cellar  gloom  — 
Claire's  shadow  stretching  forward  a  magnified  head 
at  its  dense  future;  Bollard's  shadow  towering  so 
high  as  to  be  bent  at  right  angles  and  flattened  on 
the  joists  above.  Once  more  were  the  bars  put  up, 
this  time  shutting  two  inmates  out  of  the  seigniory 
house. 

Dollard  hurried  his  wife  into  the  boat.  One  Indian 
held  the  boat  to  the  beach,  another  stored  the  lug- 
gage, and  immediately  they  dropped  into  their  places 
and  took  the  oars,  and  the  boat  was  off. 

It  was  a  silent  night  and  very  little  breeze  flowed 
along  the  surface  of  the  water.  The  moon  seemed 
lost  walking  so  far  down  the  west  sky.  She  struck  a 
path  of  gold  crosswise  of  Lake  St.  Louis,  and  it  grew 
with  the  progress  of  the  boat,  still  traveling  down- 
river and  twinkling  like  a  moving  pavement  of  bur- 
nished disks. 

Going  with  the  current,  the  Huron  s  had  little  need 
to  labor,  and  the  gush  of  their  oars  came  at  longer 
intervals  than  during  the  up-stream  voyage. 

Dollard  had  wrapped  Claire  well.  He  held  the  furs 
around  her  with  one  arm.  By  that  ghostly  daylight 
which  the  moon  makes  she  could  follow  every  line 
and  contour  of  his  face.  He  examined  every  visible 
point  on  the  river's  surface,  and  turned  an  acute 


BOLLARD'S    CONFESSIOX.  HI 

ear  for  shore  sounds.  Before  he  began  to  speak, 
the  disturbance  of  his  spirit  reached  her,  and  quite 
drove  all  mention  of  Mademoiselle  de  Granville  from 
her  lips. 

Having  satisfied  himself  that  no  other  craft  haunted 
the  river,  Dollard  turned  his  eyes  upon  Claire's,  and 
spoke  to  her  ear  so  that  his  voice  was  lost  two  feet 
away. 

"  Claire,  the  Iroquois  are  the  curse  of  this  province. 
Let  me  tell  you  what  they  have  done.  They  are  a 
confederation  of  five  Indian  nations :  their  settlements 
are  south  of  the  great  Lake  Ontario,  but  they  spread 
themselves  all  along  the  St.  Lawrence,  murder  settlers, 
make  forays  into  Montreal  and  Quebec;  they  have 
almost  exterminated  the  Christian  Hurons,  and 
when  they  offer  us  truces  they  do  it  only  to  throw 
us  off  our  guard.  The  history  of  this  colony  is 
a  history  of  a  hand-to-hand  struggle  against  the 
Iroquois." 

"If  they  are  so  strong,"  whispered  Claire,  "how 
have  the  settlements  lived  at  all! " 

"  Partly  because  their  mode  of  warfare  is  peculiar, 
and  consists  in  overrunning,  harassing,  and  burning 
certain  points  and  then  retiring  to  the  woods  again, 
and  partly  because  they  needed  the  French.  We  are 
useful  to  them  in  furnishing  certain  supplies  for 
which  they  trade.  But  they  also  trade  with  the 
Dutch  colony  on  the  Hudson  River.  Only  lately 


112  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

have  they  made  up  their  minds  to  sweep  over  this 
province  and  destroy  it." 

"  How  do  you  know  this  ?  " 

11 1  know  that  at  this  time  two  bands  of  these  sav- 
ages, each  hundreds  strong,  are  moving  to  meet  each 
other  somewhere  on  the  Ottawa  River.  We  have  heard 
rumors,  and  some  prisoners  have  been  brought  in  and 
made  to  confess,  and  the  mere  fact  that  no  skulking 
parties  haunt  us  shows  that  they  are  massing." 

Dollard  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"I  shall  not  dread  this  danger,  being  with  you/' 
said  Claire. 

"  This  is  what  I  must  tell  you.  Claire,  there  was  a 
man  in  Montreal  who  thought  the  sacking  of  New 
France  could  be  prevented  if  a  few  determined  men 
would  go  out  and  meet  these  savages  on  the  way,  as 
aggressors,  instead  of  fighting  simply  on  the  defensive, 
as  we  have  done  so  long.  This  man  found  sixteen 
other  young  men  of  his  own  mind,  and  they  all  took 
a  sacred  oath  to  devote  themselves  to  this  purpose." 

"Sixteen!"  breathed  the  shuddering  girl.  "Only 
sixteen  against  a  thousand  Indians  f " 

"Sixteen  are  enough  if  they  be  fit  for  the  enter- 
prise. One  point  of  rock  will  break  any  number  of 
waves.  These  sixteen  men  and  their  leader  then 
obtained  the  governor's  consent  to  their  enterprise, 
and  they  will  kneel  in  the  chapel  of  the  H6tel-Dieu 
and  receive  absolution  at  daybreak  this  morning." 


DOLLARD'S    CONFESSION.  113 

"  Their  leader  is  Adam  Dollard ! "  Claire's  whis- 
pered cry  broke  out. 

"  Their  leader  is  Adam  Dollard,"  he  echoed. 

She  uttered  no  other  sound,  but  rose  up  in  the 
boat. 

Dollard  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  set  her  upon 
his  knees.  They  held  each  other  in  an  embrace  like 
the  rigid  lock  of  death,  the  smiling,  pale  night  seeming 
full  of  crashing  and  grinding  noises,  and  of  chaos 
like  mountains  falling. 

Length  after  length  the  boat  shot  on,  dumb  heart- 
beat after  dumb  heart-beat,  mile  after  mile.  It  began 
to  shiver  uneasily.  Alert  to  what  was  before  them, 
and  indifferent  to  their  freight  of  stone  in  the  boat's 
end,  the  Hurons  slipped  to  their  knees,  each  un- 
shipped his  oars  and  took  one  of  the  dripping  pair 
for  a  paddle,  fixed  his  roused  eyes  on  the  twisting 
current,  and  prepared  for  the  rapids  of  Lachine. 
Like  an  arrow  just  when  the  bowstring  twangs  came 
the  boat  at  a  rock,  to  be  paddled  as  cleanly  aside  as 
if  that  hissing  mass  had  been  a  shadow.  Right,  left, 
ahead  the  rapids  boiled  up  j  slight  shocks  ran  through 
the  thin-skinned  craft  as  it  dodged,  shied,  leaped,  half 
whirled  and  half  reversed,  tumultuously  tumbled  or 
shot  as  if  going  down  a  flume.  While  it  lasted  the 
danger  seemed  endless.  But  those  skilled  paddlers 
played  through  it  with  grins  of  delight  folding 
creases  in  their  leather  faces,  nor  did  they  settle 


114  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARS. 

down  dogged  and  dull  Indians  again  until  the  boat 
shot  freely  out  of  the  rapids  upon  tame  moonlighted 
ripples  once  more. 

After  the  Lachine,  Bollard  lifted  his  head  and  said 
to  Claire : 

"We  start  on  our  expedition  as  soon  as  mass  is 
done  this  morning.  It  goes  without  saying  that  I 
was  pledged  to  this  when  I  went  to  Quebec.  I 
cannot  go  back  from  it  now." 

"  There  is  no  thought  of  your  going  back  from  it 
now,"  Claire  spoke  to  him.  "  But,  Dollard,  is  there 
hope  of  any  man's  returning  alive  from  this  expedi- 
tion?" 

"We  are  sworn  to  give  no  quarter  and  to  take 
none." 

The  Indians,  pointing  their  boat  towards  Montreal, 
were  now  pulling  with  long  easy  strokes.  A  little 
rocky  island  rose  between  voyagers  and  settling  moon. 

"  0  Claire  !  I  loved  you  so !  that  is  all  my  excuse. 
I  meant  not  to  bring  such  anguish  upon  you." 

"  Dollard,  I  forbid  you  to  regret  your  marriage.  I 
myself  have  no  regrets." 

"I  knew  not  what  I  was  doing."  His  words 
dropped  with  effort.  She  could  feel  his  throat 
strongly  sobbing. 

"  Don't  fret,  my  Dollard."  Claire  smoothed  down 
those  laboring  veins  with  her  satin  palm.  "  We  are, 
indeed,  young  to  die.  I  thought  we  should  live  years 


DOLLARD  JS    CONFESSION.  115 

together.  But  this  marriage  gave  us  nearly  a  week 
of  paradise.  And  that  is  more  happiness,  I  am  ex- 
perienced enough  to  believe,  than  many  wedded 
couples  have  in  a  lifetime.'7 

"  Claire,  the  family  of  the  Governor  Maisonneuve 
will  receive  you  and  treat  you  with  all  courtesy ;  first 
for  your  own  sake,  and  in  a  small  degree  for  mine. 
I  have  set  down  in  my  will  that  you  are  to  have  all 
my  rude  belongings,  and  Jacques  is  sworn  your 
trusty  servant." 

"  Dollard,  hear  what  I  have  to  say,"  she  exclaimed, 
pressing  his  temples  between  her  hands.  "  You  meant 
to  leave  me  behind  you  at  St.  Bernard.  You  forget 
that  the  blood  of  man-warriors,  the  blood  of  Anne  de 
Montmorency,  Constable  of  France,  runs  in  my  veins. 
Doubt  not  that  I  shall  go  with  you  on  this  expedi- 
tion. Do  you  think  I  have  no  courage  because  I  am 
afraid  of  mice  and  lightning!" 

"I  knew  not  that  you  were  afraid  of  mice  and 
lightning,  my  Claire." 

"  Am  I  to  be  the  wife  of  Dollard  and  have  sixteen 
young  men  thrust  between  him  and  myself,  all 
accounted  worthy  of  martyrdom  above  me?" 

"  Daughter  of  a  Montmorency ! "  burst  out  Dollard 
with  passion  ;  "  better  than  any  man  on  earth !  I  do 
you  homage —  I  prostrate  myself — I  adore  you !  Yet 
must  I  profane  your  ears  with  this :  no  woman  can  go 
with  the  expedition  without  bringing  discredit  on  it." 


116  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

"  Not  even  your  wife  ? " 

"  Not  even  my  wife.  After  absolution  in  the  chapel 
this  morning  we  are  set  apart,  consecrated  to  the 
purpose  before  us." 

Claire  dropped  her  face  and  said : 

"  I  comprehend."  He  held  her  upon  his  breast  the 
brief  remainder  of  their  journey,  prostrated  as  she 
had  not  been  by  the  shock  of  his  confession. 

Mount  Royal  stood  dome-like  on  Montreal  island, 
a  huge  shadow  glooming  out  of  the  north-west  upon 
the  little  village.  After  shifting  about  from  a  river 
point  of  view,  those  structures  composing  the  town 
finally  settled  in  their  order:  the  fort,  the  rough 
stone  seminary  of  St.  Sulpice,  the  Hotel-Dieu,  the 
wooden  houses  standing  in  a  single  long  row,  and 
eastward  the  great  fortified  mill  surrounded  by  a  wall. 
The  village  itself  had  neither  wall  nor  palisade. 

Surrounding  dark  fields  absorbed  light  and  gave 
back  no  glint  of  dew  or  sprinkling  green  blade,  for 
the  seed-sowing  was  not  yet  finished.  Black  bears 
squatting  or  standing  about  the  fields  at  length  re- 
vealed themselves  as  charred  stumps  and  half  trees. 

"  You  have  not  told  me  the  route  your  expedition 
goes,"  whispered  Claire. 

"  We  go  in  that  direction — up  the  Ottawa  River." 
Dollard  swept  out  his  arm  indicating  the  west. 

"  There  is  one  thing.  Do  not  place  me  in  the 
governor's  charge.  How  can  I  be  a  guest,  when  I 


BOLLARD'S    CONFESSION.  117 

would  lie  night  and  day  before  some  shrine  f  Are 
there  no  convents  in  Montreal!  A  convent  is  my 
allotted  shelter." 

"  There  are  only  the  nuns  of  the  H6tel-Dieu,"  he 
murmured  back.  "  They,  also,  would  receive  you  into 
kind  protection;  but,  my  Claire,  they  are  poor. 
Montreal  is  not  Quebec.  Our  nuns  lived  at  first  in 
one  room.  Now  they  have  the  hospital ;  but  it  is  a 
wooden  building,  exposed  by  its  situation." 

"  Let  me  go  to  the  nuns,"  she  insisted.  "And  there 
is  one  other  thing.  Do  not  tell  them  who  I  am.  Say 
nothing  about  me,  that  I  may  have  no  inquiries  to 
answer  concerning  our  marriage  and  his  lordship  the 
bishop." 

11  Our  nuns  of  St.  Joseph  and  the  Sulpitians  of  Mont- 
real bear  not  too  much  love  for  the  bishop,"  said  Dol- 
lard.  "  But  every  wish  you  have  is  my  wish.  I  will  say 
nothing  to  the  nuns,  and  you  may  tell  them  only 
what  you  will." 

A  strong  pallor  toning  up  to  yellow  had  been 
growing  from  the  east  to  the  detriment  of  the  moon. 
Now  a  pencil  line  of  pink  lay  across  the  horizon,  and 
the  general  dewiness  of  objects  became  apparent. 
The  mountain  turned  from  shadow  into  perpendicular 
earth  and  half-budded  trees.  Some  people  were  stir- 
ring in  Montreal,  and  a  dog  ran  towards  the  river 
barking  as  the  boat  touched  the  wharf. 


XIII. 
THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  HOTEL-DIET!. 

'OUANEAUX,  the  retainer  of  the 
hospital  nuns,  though  used  to  rising 
early  to  feed  their  pigs  and  chickens, 
this  time  cast  his  wary  glance  into 
the  garden  while  it  was  yet  night. 
The  garden  held  now  no  tall  growths  of  mustard,  in 
which  the  Iroquois  had  been  known  to  lurk  until 
daylight  for  victims,  but  Jouaneaux  felt  it  necessary 
that  he  should  scan  the  inclosure  himself  before  any 
nun  chanced  to  step  into  it. 

The  Sisterhood's  dependent  animals  were  quartered 
under  the  same  roof  with  themselves,  according  to 
Canadian  custom.  Jouaneaux  scattered  provender 
before  the  cocks  were  fairly  roused  to  their  matin 
duty  of  crowing;  and  the  sleepy  swine,  lifting  the 
tips  of  their  circular  noses,  grunted  inquiringly  at 
kim  without  scrambling  up  through  the  dusk. 

118 


THE   CHAPEL    OF   THE   HOTEL-DIEU.          119 

Scandal  might  have  attached  itself  even  to  these 
nuns  of  the  Hotel-Dieu  for  maintaining  so  youthful 
a  servitor  as  Jouaneaux,  had  not  the  entire  settle- 
ment of  Montreal  known  his  cause  for  gratitude 
towards  them  and  the  honest  bond  which  held  him 
devoted  to  their  goodness. 

He  was  not  the  stumpy  type  of  French  peasant, 
but  stood  tall  and  lithe,  was  rosy-faced,  and  had 
bright  hair  like  a  Saxon's.  A  constant  smile  parted 
Jouaneaux's  lips  and  tilted  up  his  nose.  He  looked 
always  on  the  point  of  telling  good  news.  Catastrophe 
and  pain  had  not  erased  the  up-curves  of  this  ex- 
pression. So  he  stood  smiling  at  the  pigs  while 
Indian-fighters  were  gathering  from  all  quarters  of 
Montreal  towards  the  hospital  chapel. 

"  Jouaneaux ! n  spoke  a  woman's  well-modulated 
voice  from  an  inner  door. 

"  Yes,  honored  Superior,"  he  responded  with  alac- 
rity, turning  to  Sister  Judith  de  Br6soles,  head  of  the 
Sisterhood  of  St.  Joseph,  to  whom  he  accorded  always 
this  exaggerated  term  of  respect.  She  carried  a  taper 
in  her  hand,  its  slender  white  flame  casting  up  the 
beauty  of  her  stern  spiritualized  features. 

Bound  at  all  times  to  the  duty  of  the  moment, 
whether  that  duty  was  to  boil  herbs  for  dinner,  to 
ring  the  tocsin  at  an  Indian  alarm,  or  to  receive  the 
wounded  and  the  dying,  Sister  BrSsoles  conferred 
briefly  with  her  servitor. 


120  THE    ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

"  Jouaneaux,  is  the  chapel  in  complete  readiness  ?  " 

"  Yes,  honored  Superior ;  everything  is  ready." 

"  The  Commandant  Dollard  has  arrived,  and  he 
brought  his  young  relative  with  him  to  place  her  in 
our  care." 

"  His  sister  who  lives  on  his  seigniory  ? " 

"  Certainly.  Could  it  be  any  other  ?  His  sister 
Mademoiselle  Dollard,  therefore  —  " 

"  Pardon,  honored  Superior," — the  tip  of  his  nose 
shifted  with  expressive  twitches,  and  he  had  the  air 
of  imparting  something  joyful, — "Mademoiselle  de 
Granville.  She  is  but  half-sister  to  Monsieur  Dollard.77 

"  The  minutest  relationships  of  remote  families  are 
not  hid  from  you,  Jouaneaux/7  commented  Sister 
Br6soles.  "  But  I  have  to  mention  to  you  that  the 
parlor  fire  must  be  lighted  now  and  every  morning 
for  Mademoiselle  de  Granville,  if  she  choose  to  sit 
there.77 

"  It  shall  be  done,  honored  Superior.77 

"And  that  is  all  I  had  to  tell  you,  I  believe,77  con- 
cluded Sister  Judith,  turning  immediately  to  the  next 
duty  on  her  list. 

Early  as  it  was,  the  population  of  Montreal  was 
pressing  into  the  palisade  gate  of  the  H6tel-Dieu. 
Matrons  led  their  children,  who  mopped  sleep  from 
their  eyes  with  little  dark  fists  and  stood  on  tip-toe 
to  look  between  moving  figures  for  the  Indian-fighters. 
Some  women  had  pale  and  tear-sodden  cheeks,  but  most 


THE    CHAPEL    OF   THE   H6TEL-DIEU.          121 

faces  showed  that  rapturous  enthusiasm  which  heroic 
undertaking  rouses  in  the  human  breast.  Unlike 
many  meetings  of  a  religious  character,  this  one  at- 
tracted men  in  majority:  the  seignior,  the  gentil- 
homme,  the  soldier  from  the  fort,  the  working-smith 
or  armorer. 

When  Sister  BrSsoles  received  Claire  she  had  given 
her  directly  into  the  hands  of  a  white,  gentle  little 
nun,  the  frame- work  of  whose  countenance  was  bare 
and  expressive.  She  took  the  girl's  hand  between  her 
sympathetic  and  work-worn  tiny  palms. 

They  stood  in  the  refectory,  the  dawn-light  just 
jotting  their  outlines  to  each  other. 

"I  am  Sister  Mac6,  dear  mademoiselle,"  said  the 
little  nun.  "Do  you  wish  me  to  sit  by  you  in  the 
chapelt" 

"  I  cannot  sit  in  the  chapel,  Sister." 

"  Then  let  me  take  you  to  our  parlor.  My  Sister 
Br6soles  will  have  a  fire  lighted  there.  On  these 
mornings  the  air  from  the  river  comes  in  chill." 

"  No,  Sister,"  said  Claire,  her  eyes  closed.  "  Thank 
you.  Be  not  too  kind  to  me.  I  wish  to  retain  com- 
mand of  myself." 

Sister  Mac&  let  a  tear  slip  down  each  cheek  hollow 
and  took  one  hand  away  from  Claire's  to  tweak  her 
dot-like  nose  and  catch  the  tears  on  a  corner  of  her 
veil.  The  Sisters  of  St.  Joseph  were  poorly  clad,  but 
the  very  fragrance  of  cleanness  stirred  in  Sister  Mac#s 


122  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

robe.  She  glanced  about  for  something  which  might 
comfort  Claire  by  way  of  the  stomach ;  for  stomach 
comfort  had  gained  importance  to  these  gently  bred 
nuns  after  their  Canadian  winters  on  frozen  bread. 

"  Sister,"  said  Claire,  "  is  there  any  hiding-place 
about  the  walls  of  the  chapel  where  I  can  thrust  my- 
self so  that  no  weakness  of  mine  may  be  seen,  and 
behold  the  ceremonies  ?  " 

"  There  is  the  rood-loft/7  replied  Sister  Mac6.  "And 
if  you  go  directly  to  it  before  the  chapel  is  opened  for 
the  service,  nobody  would  dream  you  were  there." 

"  Let  us  go  directly,"  said  Claire. 

Directly  they  went.  Sister  Mac6  paused  but  to 
close  with  care  the  chapel  door  behind  them.  The 
chapel  was  dark  and  they  groped  across  it  and  up  the 
stairway,  Sister  Mac6  talking  low  and  breathlessly  on 
the  ascent. 

"Ah,  mademoiselle,  what  a  blessed  and  safe  retreat 
is  the  rood-loft !  How  many  times  have  my  Sister 
Maillet  and  I  flown  to  that  sacred  corner  and  pros- 
trated ourselves  before  the  Holy  Sacrament  while  the 
yells  of  the  Iroquois  rung  in  our  very  ears !  We  ex- 
pected every  instant  to  be  seized,  and  to  feel  the  scalps 
torn  from  our  heads.  I  have  not  the  fortitude  to  bear 
these  things  as  hath  my  Sister  Bresoles, —  this  way, 
mademoiselle ;  give  me  your  hand, —  but  I  can  appre- 
ciate noble  courage ;  and,  mademoiselle,  I  look  with 
awe  upon  these  young  men  about  to  take  their  vows." 


THE    CHAPEL    OF   THE   H6TEL-DIEU.          123 

The  sacrament  and  its  appendages  had  been  re- 
moved from  Sister  Mac#s  retreat  to  the  altar  below. 
There  was  a  low  balustrade  at  the  front  of  this  nar- 
row gallery  which  would  conceal  people  humble 
enough  to  flatten  themselves  beside  it,  and  here  the 
woman  bereft  and  the  woman  her  sympathizer  did  lie 
on  the  floor  and  look  down  from  the  rood-loft.  Before 
many  moments  an  acolyte  came  in  with  his  taper  and 
lighted  all  the  candles  on  the  altar.  Out  of  dusk  the 
rough  little  room,  with  its  few  sacred  daubs  and  its 
waxen  images,  sprung  into  mellow  beauty. 

Claire  watched  all  that  passed,  sometimes  dropping 
her  face  to  the  floor,  and  sometimes  trembling  from 
head  to  foot,  but  letting  no  sound  betray  her.  She 
saw  the  settlement  of  Montreal  crowd  into  the  in- 
closure  as  soon  as  the  chapel  door  was  opened,  and  a 
Sulpitian  priest  stand  forth  by  the  altar.  She  saw  the 
seventeen  men  file  into  space  reserved  for  them  be- 
fore the  altar  and  kneel  there  four  abreast,  Dollard  at 
their  head  kneeling  alone. 

The  chapel  was  very  silent,  French  vivacity,  which 
shapes  itself  into  animated  fervor  on  religious  occa- 
sions, being  repressed  by  this  spectacle. 

Claire  knew  the  sub-governor  Maisonneuve  by  his 
surroundings  and  attendants  before  Sister  Mac6 
breathed  him  into  her  ear. 

"And  that  man  who  now  comes  forward/'  the  nun 
added  as  secretly — "that  is  Charles  Le  Moyne,  as 


124  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

brave  a  man  as  any  in  the  province,  and  rich  and 
worthy,  moreover.  His  seigniory  is  opposite  Mont- 
real on  the  south-east  shore." 

Charles  Le  Moyne,  addressing  himself  to  the  kneel- 
ing men,  spoke  ont  for  his  colleagues  and  brethren  of 
the  settlement  who  could  not  leave  their  farms  until 
the  spring  crops  were  all  planted.  He  urged  the  seven- 
teen to  wait  until  he  and  his  friends  could  join  the 
expedition.  He  would  promise  they  should  not  be 
delayed  long. 

Claire  watched  Bollard  lift  his  smiling  face  and 
shake  his  head  with  decision,  against  which  urging 
was  powerless. 

She  witnessed  the  oath  which  they  took  neither  to 
give  quarter  to  nor  accept  quarter  from  the  Iroquois. 
She  witnessed  their  consecration  and  the  ceremonial 
of  mass.  The  kneeling  men  were  young,  few  of  them 
being  oldef  than  Dollard.*  They  represented  the 

*  The  following  list  may  be  found  in  the  parish  register  of 
Villemarie,  June  3,  1660: 

1.  Adam  Dollard  (Sieur  des  Ormeaux),  commandant,  age" 
de  25  ans. 

2.  Jacques  Brassier,  age"  de  25  ans. 

3.  Jean  Tavernier,  dit  la  Hochehere,  armurier,  age"  de  28  ans. 

4.  Nicolas  Tellemont,  serrurier,  age"  de  25  ans. 

5.  Laurent  Hebert,  dit  la  Riviere,  27  ans. 

6.  Alonie"  de  Lestres,  chaufournier,  31  ans. 

7.  Nicolas  Josselin,  25  ans. 

8.  Robert  Jur4e,  24  ans. 

9.  Jacques  Boisseau,  dit  Cognac,  23  ans. 
10.  Louis  Martin,  21  ans. 


THE    CHAPEL    OF   THE   HdTEL-DIEU.          125 

colony,  from  soldier  and  gentilhomme  down  to  the 
lower  ranks  of  handicraftsmen.  Whatever  their 
ancestry  had  been,  a  baptism  of  glory  descended 
upon  all  those  faces  alike.  Their  backs  were  towards 
the  crowded  chapel,  but  the  women  in  the  rood-loft 
could  see  this  unconscious  light,  and  as  Claire  looked 
at  Dollard  she  shuddered  from  head  to  foot,  feeling 
that  her  whole  silent  body  was  one  selfish  scream, 
"  He  is  forgetting  me ! " 

Lighted  altar,  lifted  host,  bowed  people,  and  even 
the  knightly  splendor  of  Dollard's  face,  all  passed 
from  Claire's  knowledge. 

"It  is  now  over,  dear  mademoiselle,"  whispered 

/ 

11.  Christophe  Augier,  dit  Desjardins,  26  ana. 

12.  fttienne  Robin,  dit  Desforges,  27  ans. 

13.  Jean  Valets,  27  ans. 

14.  Ren6  Doussin  (Sieurde  Sainte-C6cile),  soldat  de  garnison, 
30  ans. 

15.  Jean  Lecomte,  20  ans. 

16.  Simon  Grenet,  25  ans. 

17.  Francois  Crusson,  dit  Pilote,  24  ans. 

Also  cited  in  "Histoire  de  la  Colonie  Francaise,"  IL,  414, 
416: 

"A  ces  dix-sept  heros  Chretiens,  on  doit  joindre  le  brave 
An ii a h- »r aha,  chef  des  Hurons,  oomme  aussi  Metiwemeg,  capi- 
tal no  Algonquin,  avec  les  trois  antres  braves  de  sa  nation,  qui 
tous  demeurent  fideles  et  monrirent  au  champ  d'honneur ;  enfin 
les  trois  Francais  qui  p£rirent  au  d6but  de  ('expedition,  Nicolas 
du  Val,  serviteur  au  fort,  Mathurin  Soulard,  charpentier  du 
fort,  et  Blaise  Juillet,  dit  Argnon,  habitant." 

Of  the  ambush  in  which  these  last-mentioned  three  men  were 
slain,  and  the  subsequent  volunteering  of  others  in  their  places, 
this  romance  does  not  treat. 


126  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

Sister  Mace,  sighing.  "  Do  you  see  ?  —  the  men  are 
standing  up  to  march  out  four  abreast,  headed  by  the 
commandant.  Ah,  how  the  people  will  crowd  them 
and  shake  their  hands !  Are  you  not  looking,  my 
child  ?  O  St.  Joseph !  patron  of  little  ones,  she  is  in 
a  dead  faint.  Mademoiselle  ! ??  Sister  Mace  began  to 
rub  Claire's  temples  and  hands  and  to  pant  with 
anxiety,  so  that  the  rood-loft  must  have  been  be- 
trayed had  not  the  chapel  been  emptying  itself  of 
a  crowd  running  eagerly  after  other  objects. 

"  Let  me  be,"  spoke  Claire,  hoarsely.  "  I  am  only 
dying  to  the  world." 

Sister  Mace  wept  again.  She  patted  Claire's  wrist 
with  her  small  fingers.  The  girl's  bloodless  face  and 
tight-shut  eyes  were  made  more  pallid  by  early  day- 
light, for  the  candles  were  being  put  out  upon  the 
altar.  Sister  Mace  in  her  solicitude  forgot  all  about 
the  people  pouring  through  the  palisade  gate  and 
following  their  heroes  to  the  river-landing. 

"  Oh,  how  strong  is  the  love  of  brother  and  sister !  " 
half  soliloquized  this  gentle  nun.  "These  ties  so 
sweeten  life;  but  when  the  call  of  Heaven  comes, 
how  hard  they  rend  asunder ! " 

The  trampling  below  hastened  itself,  ebbed  away, 
entirely  ceasing  upon  the  flags  of  the  Hotel-Dieu  and 
becoming  a  clatter  along  the  wharf. 

"  Is  the  chapel  vacant  now,  Sister  ?  "  her  charge 
breathed  at  her  ear. 

"  The  last  person  has  left  it,  dear  mademoiselle." 


THE    CHAPEL    OF   THE   H6TEL-DIEU.          127 

"  Presently  I  will  go  down  to  lie  on  that  spot  where 
he  knelt  before  the  altar." 

"Shall  I  assist  you  down,  dear  mademoiselle t " 
said  Sister  Mac6  with  the  solicitude  of  a  sparrow 
trying  to  lift  a  wounded  robin. 

"  No,  Sister.  But  of  your  charity  do  this  for  me  in 
my  weakness.  Go  down  and  stand  by  the  place.  I 
have  not  known  if  any  foot  pressed  it,  and  I  will  not 
have  it  profaned." 

Sister  Mac6,  therefore,  who  respected  all  requests, 
and  who  herself  had  lain  stretched  on  that  cold  stone 
pavement  doing  her  religious  penances,  descended 
the  stairs  and  stood  near  the  altar ;  while  her  charge 
followed,  holding  by  railing  or  sinking  upon  step, 
until  she  reached  the  square  of  stone  where  Dollard 
had  knelt. 

As  a  mother  pounces  upon  her  child  in  idolatrous 
abandon,  so  Claire  fell  upon  that  chill  spot  and 
encircled  it  with  her  arms,  sobbing: 

"  Doubt  not  that  I  shall  find  you  again,  my  Dol- 
lard, my  Dollard  !  Once  before  I  prayed  mightily  to 
Heaven  for  a  blessing,  and  I  got  my  blessing." 

While  she  lay  there,  cheer  after  cheer  rose  from  the 
river-landing,  wild  enthusiasm  bursting  out  again  as 
soon  as  the  last  round  had  died  away.  The  canoes 
had  put  out  on  their  expedition.  Those  who  watched 
them  with  the  longest  watching  would  finally  turn 
aside  to  other  things.  But  the  woman  on  the  chapel 
floor  lay  stretched  there  for  twenty-four  hours. 


XIV. 
MASSAWIPPA. 

that  pleasant  afternoon,  while  a  spring 
sun  warmed  seeds  in  the  ground  and 
trees  visibly  unfurled  green  pennons, 
Montrealists  stood  in  groups  looking 
i  solemnly  up-river  where  the  expedition 
canoes  had  disappeared,  or  flinging  their  hands  in 
excited  talk.  "  They  talked  too  much,"  says  one  of 
their  chroniclers.  For  the  expedition  was  to  be  kept 
secret,  particularly  from  all  passing  Indians. 

There  was  no  wind  to  cut  away  tremulous  heat 
simmering  at  the  base  of  the  mountain.  Grass  could 
be  smelled,  with  the  delicious  odor  of  the  earth  in 
which  it  was  quickening.  On  such  a  day  the  soul  of 
man  accomplishes  its  yearly  metempsychosis,  and 
finds  itself  in  a  body  beating  with  new  life. 

Jouaneaux  carried  his  happy  countenance  from 
group  to  group  along  the  single  street  of  Montreal, 

128 


MASSA  WIPPA.  129 

standing  with  respectful  attention  when  his  superiors 
talked,  or  chiming  in  with  authority  when  his  equals 
held  parley  instead  of  pushing  their  business. 

Before  night  a  small  fleet  of  Indian  canoes  came 
up  the  river  and  landed  on  the  wharf  of  Montreal 
forty  warriors  and  a  very  young  girl.  The  chief, 
leading  the  girl  by  the  hand,  stalked  proudly  west- 
ward along  the  street,  his  feathers  dancing,  his 
muscular  legs  and  moccasined  feet  having  the  flying 
step  of  Mercury.  His  braves  trod  in  line  behind 
him. 

"  All  Hurons,"  remarked  Jouaneaux  to  his  crony,  a 
lime-burner. 

"  And  should  be  seeding  their  island  of  Orleans  at 
this  season,"  said  the  lime-burner,  "if  Quebec  set 
them  any  example  but  to  quarrel  and  take  to  the 
woods." 

"  That  chief  can  be  nobody  but  Annahotaha,"  said 
Jouaneaux.  "  Now  where  dost  thou  say  he  stole  that 
brown  beauty  of  a  little  Sister?" 

"  He  stole  her,"  responded  the  lime-burner,  "  from 
a  full-blooded  French  girl  below  Three  Rivers,  that 
some  Quebec  Jesuit  mixed  up  with  him  in  marriage. 
My  cousin  lives  in  the  same  c6te,  and  little  liking 
hath  she  for  this  half-breed  who  scorns  her  mother's 
people  and  calls  herself  a  princess." 

"Good  hater  art  thou  of  Quebec  Jesuits,"  said 
Jouaneaux,  spreading  his  approving  smile  beyond 


130  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAMD. 

dots  of  white  teeth  around  large  margins  of  pink 
gums.  "  But  Quebec  Jesuits  have  done  worse  work 
than  mixing  the  blood  of  this  princess.  What  a  little 
Sister  of  St.  Joseph  she  would  make ! "  he  exclaimed, 
stretching  his  neck  after  the  girl  and  disclosing  the 
healthy  depths  of  his  mouth. 

"You  never  look  at  a  woman  but  to  take  her 
measure  for  the  Sisterhood  of  St.  Joseph,"  laughed 
the  lime-burner. 

"  And  to  what  better  life  could  she  be  measured  ? " 
demanded  the  nuns7  retainer,  instantly  aggressive, 
"  or  what  better  Sisterhood  t " 

"There  be  no  better  women/7  yielded  the  lime- 
burner. 

ALL  night  Sister  Bresoles  and  Sister  Mac6  in  turns 
kneeled  beside  the  prostrate  woman  in  the  chapel. 
She  was  not  disturbed  by  offers  of  food  or  consola- 
tion, for  they  respected  her  posture  and  her  vigil. 
The  young  novices,  of  whom  there  were  a  few,  had 
duties  set  for  them  elsewhere.  All  night  a  taper 
burned  upon  the  altar  and  a  nun  knelt  by  it,  her 
shadow  wavering  long  and  brown  ;  and  the  woman's 
body,  with  its  arms  stretched  out  on  the  stones,  stirred 
only  at  intervals  when  the  hands  grasped  and  wrung 
each  other  in  renewed  prayer. 

Before  matins  Sister  Bresoles  left  her  support  of 
this  afflicted  spirit  to  devote  herself  to  the  revival  of 


MASSAWIPPA.  131 

the  body,  by  concocting  a  broth  for  which  she  is  yet 
celebrated  in  Church  annals  on  account  of  the  Divine 
assistance  she  received  in  its  preparation.  The  very 
odor  should  rouse  Claire  from  her  long  fast  and 
cause  her  to  eat  and  rise,  bearing  her  burdens. 

During  Sister  Bresoles's  absence  another  figure  came 
in  and  bowed  before  the  altar. 

Conscious  of  physical  disturbance,  Claire  turned 
her  vacant  look  towards  it,  as  she  had  done  each 
time  the  nuns  changed  vigils. 

This  was  no  serene  Sister  of  St.  Joseph,  but  a  dark 
young  girl  also  flattening  herself  on  the  pavement, 
and  writhing  about  in  rages  of  pain. 

"  My  child,  what  ails  yau  f  "  whispered  Claire,  com- 
passion making  alive  the  depths  of  her  eyes. 

But  the  girl,  without  heeding  her,  ground  a  few 
prayers  between  convulsive  teeth,  and  then  beat  her 
head  upon  the  stones. 

By  degrees  the  silence  and  self-restraint  of  a  woman 
not  greatly  her  elder,  lying  in  trouble  as  abject  as  her 
own,  had  its  quieting  effect  on  her.  Tears,  scantily 
distilled  in  her,  ran  the  length  of  her  eyelid  rims  and 
fell  in  occasional  drops  on  the  floor. 

Their  cheeks  resting  on  a  level,  the  two  unhappy 
creatures  looked  at  each  other  across  a  stone  flag. 

"  Has  your  father  or  your  brother  gone  with  Dol- 
lard  1 "  whispered  Claire. 

"  Madame,  my  father  goes  to  fight  the  Iroquois." 


132  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

"  I  thought  it." 

"  Madame,  I  have  just  been  making  a  vow." 

"  So  have  I." 

"  I  will  follow  my  father  wherever  he  is  going, 
come  life  or  come  death,  and  nobody  shall  prevent 
me." 

Claire  rose  upon  her  knees. 

Sister  Brfesoles  opened  the  chapel  door,  carrying 
in  a  bowl  of  soup  as  she  would  have  carried  it  to 
a  soldier  whose  wounds  refused  to  allow  his  being 
lifted. 

The  patient  was  in  evident  thanksgiving.  Day- 
light had  just  begun  to  glimmer  in.  Claire's  face 
shone  with  the  passionate  white  triumph  which  re- 
ligious ascetics  of  that  day  looked  forward  to  as  the 
crowning  result  of  their  vigils.  Flushed  with  reaction- 
ary hope,  she  rose  to  her  feet  as  if  the  pavement  had 
left  no  stiffness  in  her  muscles,  and  met  the  nun. 

"  St.  Joseph  and  all  the  Holy  Family  give  you  peace, 
mademoiselle." 

"  Peace  hath  been  granted  me,  Sister.  My  prayer 
is  answered." 

"  Great  is  the  power  of  the  Holy  Family.  But  after 
your  long  vigil  you  will  need  this  strengthening  broth 
which  I  have  made  for  you." 

"  Sister,  you  are  kind.  Let  me  take  it  to  your  refec- 
tory. I  know  the  place.  And  may  this  young  girl 
attend  me  ?  " 


MASSAWIPPA.  133 

"  I  will  carry  it  myself,  mademoiselle,"  said  Sister 
Judith,  "  to  our  rude  parlor,  if  you  will  follow  me  up 
the  stairs.  The  refectory  is  somewhat  chilly,  and  in 
the  parlor  we  have  a  fire  kindled.  And  you  may 
bathe  your  face  and  hands  before  eating  your 
soup." 

Up  a  stairway  Claire  groped  behind  the  nun,  and 
came  into  a  barn-like  huge  room,  scant  of  comforts 
except  an  open  fire,  which  Jouaneaux  had  but  finished 
preparing  entirely  for  her.  The  cells  of  the  nuns  were 
built  along  one  side  of  this  room,  and  from  the  cells 
they  now  emerged  going  devoutly  to  matins. 

"  Touching  the  half-breed  girl  of  whom  you  spoke," 
said  Sister  Bresoles,  lingering  to  put  a  basin  of  water 
and  coarse  clean  towel  within  reach  of  her  guest,  "  she 
shall  come  to  you  as  soon  as  she  hath  finished  her 
morning  devotions.  Her  father  is  chief  of  the  Hurons, 
and  hath  placed  her  here  as  a  novice.  We  have  many 
girls  come,"  added  Sister  Br6soles  with  a  light  sigh, 
"  but  few  remain  to  bear  the  hardships  of  life  in  a 
frontier  convent." 

"  Girls  are  ungrateful  creatures,"  said  Claire,  "  bent 
on  their  own  purposes,  and  greedy  of  what  to  them 
seems  happiness.  I  am  myself  so.  And  if  I  do  or 
say  what  must  offend  you,  forgive  me,  Sister." 

She  unfastened  her  necklace  and  held  it  up  —  a 
slender  rope  braided  of  three  strings  of  seed  pearls 
and  fastened  by  a  ruby. 


134  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLABD. 

"  This  is  a  red  sapphire,  Sister,  and  has  been  more 
than  a  hundred  years  in  the  house  of — " 

She  suppressed  "  Laval-Montmorency,"  and  pressed 
her  necklace  upon  the  nun's  refusing  palm. 

"  Why  do  you  offer  me  this,  mademoiselle  ? " 

"  Because  from  this  day  gems  and  I  part  company 
forever.  That  is  the  only  hereditary  ornament  I 
brought  with  me  into  New  France.  Enrich  some 
shrine  with  it  if  you  have  no  need  to  turn  it  into 
money  for  your  convent." 

"  Our  convent  is  very  poor,  mademoiselle,"  replied 
Sister  Bresoles,  divided  between  acceptance  and  re- 
fusal. "  But  we  want  no  rich  gifts  from  those  who 
make  their  retirement  with  us.  Also,  the  command- 
ant, your  brother,  left  with  us  more  value  than  our 
poor  hospitality  can  return  to  you." 

"  Yet  be  in  treated,  Sister,"  urged  Claire.  "  I  want 
it  to  be  well  placed,  but  no  more  about  my  throat." 

Sister  Bresoles,  with  gentle  thanks,  therefore, —  "  It 
shall  still  do  honor  to  your  house  in  works  of  charity, 
mademoiselle,"  —  accepted  the  gift  and  went  directly 
to  matins. 

When  Claire  had  washed  her  face  and  hands  and 
tightened  the  loose  puffs  of  her  hair,  she  took  her  bowl 
of  soup  and  sat  before  the  fire,  eating  it  with  the  hearty 
appetite  of  a  woman  risen  from  despair  to  resolution. 

The  odor  of  a  convent,  how  natural  it  was  to  her !  — 
that  smell  of  stale  incense  intertwined  with  the  scent- 


MASSAWIPPA.  135 

less  breath  of  excessive  cleanliness.  Through  the 
poor  joints  of  the  house  she  could  hear  matin -chant- 
ing arise  from  the  chapel.  Daylight  grew  stronger 
and  ruddier,  and  a  light  fog  from  the  river  showed 
opal  changes. 

On  moccasined  feet,  and  so  deft  of  hand  that  Claire 
heard  her  neither  open  nor  close  the  door,  the  half- 
breed  girl  came  to  the  hearth.  A  brown  and  a  white 
favor  in  woman  beauty  were  then  set  in  strong  con- 
trast. Both  girls  were  slenderly  shaped,  virginal  and 
immature  lines  still  predominating.  Claire  was  trans- 
parently clear  of  skin,  her  hair  was  silken  white  like 
dandelion  down,  and  the  brown  color  of  her  eyes,  not 
deeply  tinged  with  pigment,  showed  like  shadow  on 
water;  while  the  half-breed  burned  in  rich  pome- 
granate dyes,  set  in  black  and  fawn  tints.  They 
looked  an  instant  at  each  other  in  different  mood 
from  their  first  gaze  across  the  flagstone. 

"Your  father  is  an  Indian  chief,  the  Sister  tells 
me,"  said  Claire. 

"My  father  is  fitienne  Annahotaha,  chief  of  the 
Hurons." 

"  And  what  is  your  name  t " 

"  Massawippa." 

"  Massawippa,  the  Virgin  sent  you  into  the  chapel 
to  answer  my  prayer." 

The  half-breed,  standing  in  young  dignity,  threw  a 
dark-eyed  side-glance  at  this  perfect  lily  of  French 


136  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLABD. 

civilization.  She  was  not  yet  prepared  to  be 
used  as  an  answer  to  the  prayers  of  any  French 
woman. 

"  Did  you  know  that  an  expedition  started  yester- 
day to  the  Ottawa  River  ?  "  inquired  Claire. 

Massawippa  shook  her  head. 

"But  your  father,  also  —  he  is  going  to  fight  the 
Iroquois  f  " 

"  I  know  not  where  they  are,  but  I  shall  find  out/' 
said  Massawippa. 

"  I  know/'  said  Claire.  "  The  Iroquois  are  coming 
down  the  Ottawa." 

"Prom  their  winter  trapping,"  the  girl  assented 
with  a  nod. 

"  Your  father,  therefore,  will  follow  Bollard's 
expedition." 

"  My  father  has  but  forty-three  men/7  Massawippa 
said  gloomily. 

"  Child/'  said  Claire,  "  Dollard  has  only  sixteen  !  " 

"And,  madame,  the  Iroquois  are  like  leaves  for 
number.  But  I  did  not  mean  our  Hurons  are  forty- 
three  strong.  Mituvemeg,*  the  Algonquin,  meets  my 
father  here." 

*"They  stopped  by  the  way  at  Three  Rivers,  where  they 
found  a  band  of  Christian  Algonquins  under  a  chief  named 
Mituvemeg.  Annahotaha  challenged  him  to  a  trial  of  courage, 
and  it  was  agreed  that  they  should  meet  at  Montreal.  .  .  . 
Thither,  accordingly,  they  repaired,  the  Algonquin  with  three 
followers,  the  Huron  with  thirty-nine." — Francis  Parkman. 


MASSAWIPPA.  137 

"Do  you  know  this  country?  Have  you  lived 
much  in  the  woods!77 

"  Yes,  madame." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  up  the  Ottawa  River  !  n 

"  Yes,  madame.  The  very  last  summer  my  father 
took  me  up  the  Ottawa  beyond  Two  Mountains 
Lake." 

"  Two  Mountains  Lake  t " 

"Yes,  madame;  a  widening  of  the  river,  just  as 
Lake  St.  Louis  is  a  widening  of  the  St.  Lawrence.77 

"Could  we  go  up  this  river  in  a  boat,  you 
and  It" 

Massawippa  looked  steadily  at  Claire,  searching 
her  for  cowardice  or  treachery.  The  Laval-Mont- 
morency  smiled  back. 

"Twenty-four  hours,  Massawippa,  I  lay  on  the 
chapel  pavement,  praying  the  Virgin  to  send  me 
guide  or  open  some  way  for  me  to  follow  the  French 
expedition  up  that  Ottawa  River.  You  threw  your- 
self beside  me  and  answered  my  prayer  by  your  own 
vow.  We  are  bound  to  the  same  destination." 

The  half-breed  girl  looked  with  actual  solicitude  at 
the  tender  white  beauty  of  her  fellow-plotter. 

"  Madame,  it  will  be  very  hard  for  you.  You  and 
I  could  not,  in  a  boat,  pass  the  rapids  of  Ste.  Anne  at 
the  head  of  this  island ;  they  test  the  skill  of  our  best 
Huron  paddlers." 

"  Can  we  then  go  by  land! 7' 


138  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLABD. 

"  We  shall  have  to  cross  one  arm  of  the  Ottawa  to 
the  mainland.  Montreal  is  on  an  island,  madame. 
Two  or  three  leagues  of  travel  would  bring  us  to  that 
shore  near  the  mouth  of  the  Ottawa.'7 

Sister  Mace,  unobtrusive  as  dawn,  opened  the  door 
and  stole  softly  in  from  matins,  breaking  up  the  con- 
ference. She  called  Massawippa  to  learn  how  pallets 
must  be  aired  and  cells  made  tidy.  The  half-breed 
girl  saw  all  this  care  with  contempt,  having  for  years 
cast  out  of  mind  her  bed  of  leaves  and  blankets  as 
soon  as  she  arose  from  it. 

Claire  went  with  unpromising  novice  and  easy 
teacher  to  breakfast  in  the  refectory,  and  afterwards 
by  herself  to  confession  —  a  confession  with  its 
mental  reservation  as  to  her  plans ;  but  the  rite  was 
one  which  her  religion  imposed  upon  her  under  the 
circumstances.  She  had  been  even  less  candid 
towards  the  nuns  in  allowing  them  to  receive  and 
address  her  as  Bollard's  sister.  The  prostration  of 
grief  and  reaction  of  intense  resolve  benumbed  her, 
indeed,  to  externals.  But  in  that  day  of  pious 
deception,  when  the  churchmen  themselves  were 
full  of  evasive  methods,  a  daughter  of  conventual 
training  may  have  been  less  sensitive  to  false 
appearances  than  women  of  Claire's  high  nature 
bred  in  a  later  age.  She  saw  no  more  of  Massa- 
wippa until  nightfall,  but  lay  in  the  cell  assigned 
to  her,  resting  with  shut  eyes,  and  allowing  no 


MASSA  WIPPA.  139 

thought  to  wander  to  the  men  paddling  towards  that 
lonely  river. 

All  day  the  season  grew ;  shower  chased  sun  and 
sun  dried  shower,  and  in  the  afternoon  Jouaneaux 
told  Sister  BrSsoles  that  he  had  weeded  the  garden  of 
a  growth  which  would  surprise  her. 

At  dusk,  however,  he  brought  the  usual  small  log 
up  to  the  parlor,  and  with  it  news  which  exceeded  his 
tale  of  weeding. 

Sister  Br6soles  was  folding  her  tired  hands  in 
meditation  there,  and  Massawippa,  sullen  and  lofty 
from  her  first  day's  probation,  curled  on  the  floor  in 
a  corner  full  of  shadows. 

"  Honored  Superior,"  said  Jouaneaux  after  placing 
his  log,  "  who,  say'st  thou,  did  boldly  walk  up  to  the 
governor  to-day  f  * 

"Perhaps  yourself,  Jouaneaux.  You  were  ever 
bold  enough." 

"  I  was  there,  honored  Superior,  about  a  little  mat- 
ter of  garden  seeds,  and  I  stood  by  and  hearkened,  as 
it  behooved  the  garrison  of  a  convent  to  do;  for 
there  comes  me  in  this  chief  of  the  Hurons,  Annaho- 
taha,  swelling  like  —  " 

Jouaneaux  suppressed  "cockerel  about  to  crow." 
His  wandering  glance  caught  Massawippa  sitting  in 
her  blanket.  The  Sisters  of  St.  Joseph  were  at  that 
time  too  poor  to  furnish  any  distinguishing  garments 

to  their  novices  j  and  so  insecure  were  these  recruits 
10 


140  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

from  the  world  that  any  uniform  would  have  been 
thrown  away  upon  them.  With  the  facility  of 
Frenchmen,  Jouaneaux  substituted, 

— "like  a  mighty  warrior,  as  he  is  known  to  be. 
And  he  asks  the  governor,  does  Annahotaha,  for  a 
letter  to  Dollar d ;  and  before  he*  leaves  the  presence 
he  gets  his  letter ." 

Sister  Br6soles  raised  a  finger,  being  mindful  of 
two  pairs  of  listening  ears,  and  two  souls  just  sinking 
to  the  peace  of  resignation. 

"  Honored  Superior,"  exclaimed  Jouaneaux,  in 
haste  to  set  bulwarks  around  his  statement,  "you 
may  ask  Father  Dollier  de  Casson  if  this  be  not  so, 
for  he  had  just  landed  from  the  river  parishes,  and 
was  with  the  governor.  V?l&,"  said  Jouaneaux,  spread- 
ing an  explanatory  hand,  "if  Annahotaha  and  his 
braves  join  Dollard  without  any  parchment  of  au- 
thority, what  share  will  Dollard  allow  them  in  the 
enterprise?  Being  a  shrewd  chief  and  a  man  of 
affairs,  Annahotaha  knew  he  must  bear  commission/' 

"  Come  down  to  the  refectory  and  take  thy  supper 
and  discharge  thy  news  there,"  Sister  Bresoles  ex- 
claimed, starting  up  and  swiftly  leaving  the  room. 

Jouaneaux  obeyed  her,  keeping  his  punctilious  foot 
far  behind  the  soft  rush  of  her  garments. 

He  dared  not  wink  at  the  nun,  even  under  cover  of 
dusk  and  to  add  zest  to  his  further  recital ;  but  he 
winked  at  the  wall  separating  him  from  Massawippa 
and  said  slyly  on  the  stairs : 


MASSAWIPPA.  141 

"  Afterwards,  however,  honored  Superior,  I  heard 
the  governor  tell  Father  de  Casson  that  he  wrote  it 
down  to  Dollard  to  accept  or  refuse  Annahotaha,  as 
he  saw  fit." 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  Claire  came  running 
out  of  her  cell  and  met  Massawippa  at  the  hearth, 
silently  clapping  her  hands  in  swift  rapture  as  a 
humming-bird  beats  its  wings. 

"  Now  thou  see'st  how  the  Virgin  answers  prayer, 
Massawippa ! " 

The  half-breed,  sedately  eager,  said : 

"  We  must  cross  the  arm  of  the  Ottawa  and  follow 
their  course  up  that  river.  Madame,  I  have  troubled 
my  mind  much  about  a  boat.  For  if  we  got  over  the 
Ottawa  arm  and  followed  the  right-hand  shore,  have 
you  thought  how  possible  it  is  that  they  may  fix  their 
camp  on  the  opposite  side  t " 

"  Can  we  not  take  a  boat  with  us  from  Montreal !  " 

"  And  carry  it  two  or  three  leagues  across  the 
country!  For  I  cannot  paddle  up  the  Ste.  Anne* 
current.  But  if  we  could  get  one  here  it  would  draw 
suspicion  on  us  and  we  might  be  followed.  I  see  but 
one  way.  We  must  depend  upon  that  walking  woman 

*  Ste.  Anne  de  Bellevue,  an  old  village  at  the  junction  of  the 
Ottawa  and  the  St.  Lawrence,  "always  a  rendezvous  of  the 
voyageurs  and  coureurs  de  bois  up  the  Ottawa." 

"The  waters  of  the  Ottawa  are  about  three  inches  higher 
than  the  waters  of  Lake  St.  Louis  (in  the  St.  Lawrence),  and 
are  therefore  precipitated  through  the  two  channels  running 
around  lie  Perot  with  considerable  force,  forming  a  succession 
of  short  rapids."— From  Report  of  Public  Works,  1866. 


142  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLAED. 

above  Carillon ;  and  if  she  be  dead,  and  they  camp 
on  the  other  side,  we  must  raft  across  the  Ottawa. 
But  if  we  must  first  make  a  raft  to  cross  at  the  mouth, 
how  much  time  will  be  lost ! " 

"  Massawippa,  we  have  vowed  to  follow  this  expe- 
dition, and  with  such  good  hap  as  Heaven  sends  us 
we  shall  follow  it.  May  we  not  start  to-morrow  ?  n 

"  Madame,  before  we  start  there  are  things  to  pre- 
pare. We  must  eat  on  the  way." 

"  What  food  shall  we  carry  ?  " 

"  Bread  and  smoked  eels  would  keep  us  alive.  I 
can  perhaps  buy  these  with  my  wampum  girdle,"  sug- 
gested Massawippa,  who  held  the  noble  young  dame 
beside  her  to  be  as  dowerless  as  a  Huron  princess, 
and  thought  it  no  shame  so  to  be. 

"  Why  need  you  do  that  ? "  inquired  Claire.  "  I  have 
two  or  three  gold  louis  left  of  the  few  I  brought  from 
France.77 

"  Gold,  madame !  Gold  is  so  scarce  in  this  land  we 
might  attract  too  much  attention  by  paying  for  our 
supplies  with  it." 

"  I  have  nothing  else,  so  we  must  hazard  it.  And 
what  must  we  take  beside  food  and  raiment  t " 

"  Madame,  we  cannot  carry  any  garments." 

"  But,  Massawippa,  I  cannot  go  to  Dollard  all 
travel-stained  and  ragged ! " 

"  If  we  find  him,  madame,  he  will  not  think  of  your 
dress.  Is  he  wedded  to  you  t » 


MASSAWIPPA.  143 

Claire's  head  sunk  down  in  replying. 

u  He  is  wedded  to  glory.  Men  care  more  for  glory 
than  they  care  for  us,  Massawippa." 

"  Madame,"  said  the  youuger,her  mouth  settling  to 
wistfulness,  "  the  more  they  care  for  glory  the  more 
we  love  them.  My  father  is  great.  If  he  was  a  com- 
mon Indian  little  could  I  honor  him,  whatever  pen- 
ance the  priest  laid  upon  me." 

"  Yes,  Dollard  is  my  husband.  He  is  my  Dollard," 
said  Claire. 

"  The  nuns  call  you  mademoiselle." 

"  I  have  not  told  them." 

"They  might  see!"  asserted  Massawippa,  slight- 
ingly. "  Do  women  lie  in  deadly  anguish  before  the 
altar  for  brothers!"  she  demanded,  speaking  as  de- 
cidedly from  her  inexperience  as  any  young  person 
of  a  later  century, "  or  for  detestable  young  men  who 
wish  to  be  accepted  as  lovers  ? " 

"  Assuredly  not,"  jsaid  Claire,  smiling. 

"But  fathers,  they  are  a  different  matter.  And  in 
your  case,  madame,  husbands.  We  shall  need  other 
things  besides  bread  and  eels.  For  example,  two 
knives." 

"  To  cut  our  bread  with  t "  inquired  Claire. 

"  No ;  to  cut  our  enemies  with  !  "  Massawippa  re- 
plied, with  preoccupied  eye  which  noted  little  the 
shudder  of  the  European. 

"  O  Massawippa !  they  may  be  engaged  with  the 


144  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLAED. 

Iroquois  even  now.  Dollard  has  been  gone  two 
days." 

"  Have  no  fear  of  that,  madame.  There  will 
be  no  fighting  until  Annahotaha  reaches  the  expe- 
dition," assumed  the  chiefs  daughter  with  a  high 
air  most  laughable  to  her  superior.  And  after 
keen  meditation  she  added:  "We  might  start  to- 
morrow day-break  if  we  but  had  our  supplies 
ready." 

" Massawippa,"-  exclaimed  Claire,  "how  do  you 
barter  with  merchants  ?  Can  we  not  send  for  them 
and  buy  our  provisions  at  once?" 

"  Madame,  send  for  the  merchants  ?  You  make  me 
laugh !  Very  cautiously  will  I  have  to  slip  from  this 
place  to  that ;  and  perhaps  I  cannot  then  buy  all  we 
need,  especially  with  gold  louis.  They  may,  how- 
ever, think  coureurs  de  bois  have  come  to  town.  And 
now  at  dusk  is  a  better  time  than  in  broad  day- 
light." 

Claire  went  in  haste  to  her  casket,  which  stood  in 
the  nuns'  parlor,  and  selected  from  it  things  which 
she  might  not  have  the  chance  of  removing  later. 
These  she  put  in  her  cell,  and  came  back  to  Massa- 
wippa  with  her  hand  freighted. 

"How  much,  madame?"  the  half-breed  inquired 
as  pieces  were  turned  with  a  clink  upon  her  own 
palm. 

"All.    Three  louis." 


MASSAWIPPA.  145 

"Take  one  back,  then.  Two  will  be  too  many, 
though  one  might  not  be  enough.  Madame,  that 
Frenchman  who  feeds  the  nuns'  pigs  and  tends  this 
fire,  he  will  let  me  out ;  and  what  I  buy  I  will  hide 
outside  the  H6tel-Dieu." 


XV 

THE  WOOINO  OF  JOUANEAUX. 


consequence  of  Massawippa's  plan  the 
Frenchman  who  fed  the  nuns7  pigs 
guarded  in  dolor  his  palisade  gate  at 
about  10  o'clock  of  the  evening. 

The  hospital  had  these  bristling  high 
pickets  set  all  about  its  premises  as  a  defense  against 
sudden  attacks,  and  its  faithful  retainer  felt  that  he  was 
courting  its  destruction  in  keeping  its  bolts  undone 
so  late.  There  was,  besides,  the  anticipative  terror 
of  a  nun's  stepping  forth  to  demand  of  his  hands  the 
new  novice.  Cold  dew  of  suspense  stood  on  his  face ; 
and  he  could  only  hope  that  Sister  Maillet,  who 
usually  had  charge  of  the  last  novice,  believed  her 
to  be  folded  safely  in  her  cell  by  Sister  Bresoles,  and 
that  Sister  Brfeoles  believed  her  to  be  thus  folded  by 
Sister  Maillet.  When  at  last  the  cat  footsteps  of 
Massawippa  passed  through  the  palisade  gate  she 

146 


THE    WOOING    OF  JOUANEAUX.  147 

requited  his  sufferings  with  scarce  a  nod  of  thanks, 
though  she  hesitated  with  some  show  of  interest  to 
see  him  fasten  both  gate  and  convent  door.  Indig- 
nation possessed  him  while  he  shot  the  bolts,  and 
freed  itself  through  jerks  of  the  head. 

But  instead  of  going  to  her  cell,  Massawippa 
entered  the  chapel;  and  Jouaneaux,  feeling  himself 
still  responsible  for  her,  followed  and  closed  the  door 
behind  him. 

A  solitary  light  burned  on  the  altar.  The  girl 
knelt  a  long  time  in  her  devotions. 

Jouaneaux  knelt  also,  near  the  door,  and  after  a 
pater  and  an  ave  it  may  be  supposed  that  he  begged 
St.  Joseph  to  intercede  for  a  poor  sinner  who  felt 
beset  and  impelled  to  meddle  with  novices. 

Having  finished  her  prayers,  Massawippa  began  to 
ascend  the  stairway  to  the  rood-loft. 

"Where  are  you  going  1"  whispered  Jouaneaux, 
following  her  in  wrath. 

She  turned  around  and  held  to  the  rail  of  the  stair, 
while  he  stood  at  the  foot,  she  guarding  her  voice 
also  in  reply. 

"I  am  going  up  here  to  sleep,  lest  I  wake  the 
Sisters.  The  floor  is  no  harder  than  their  pallets, 
and  the  night  is  not  cold." 

"  And  in  the  morning  my  honored  Superior  calls 
me  to  account  for  you." 

"No  one  has  missed  me.    I  shall  be  up  early." 


148  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

"How  do  you  know  you  are  not  missed?  Some 
one  may  this  moment  open  that  chapel  door." 

"  G-o  away  and  quit  hissing  at  me  then,"  suggested 
Massawippa,  contracting  her  brows. 

Jouaneaux,  drawn  by  a  power  irresistible,  fell  into 
the  error  of  vain  natures,  and  set  himself  to  lecture 
the  creator  of  his  infatuation. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  I  want  to  give  you  some 
good  advice.  Sit  down  on  that  step/7  he  demanded. 

Massawippa  settled  down,  and  rested  her  chin  on 
her  dark  soft  knuckles.  Sparks  of  amusement 
burned  in  the  deeps  of  her  eyes.  Accustomed  to 
having  men  of  inferior  rank  around  her,  she  was 
satisfied  that  he  kept  his  distance  and  sat  three  steps 
below  her,  literally  beneath  her  feet.  Her  beaver 
gown  cased  her  in  rich  creases. 

Seeing  her  thus  plastic,  Jouaneaux's  severity  ran 
off  his  cheeks  in  a  smile.  He  forgot  her  abuse  of  the 
privilege  he  had  stolen  for  her.  His  genial  nose 
tilted  up,  and  as  overture  to  his  good  advice,  show- 
ing all  his  gums,  he  whispered : 

"  What  a  pretty  little  Sister  of  St.  Joseph  you  will 
make ! " 

Massawippa  stirred,  and  with  her  dull-red  blanket 
arranged  a  rest  for  her  head  against  the  balustrade. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  me  1"  he  inquired. 

After  reticent  pause  of  a  length  to  embarrass  a 
modest  questioner,  Massawippa  admitted: 


THE    WOOING    OF  JOUANEAUX.  149 

"  You  are  not  so  black  and  oily  as  La  Mouche." 

"  Who  is  La  Mouche  !  " 

"  He  is  my  father's  adopted  nephew." 

"  Does  he  want  to  wed  you  t " 

"  He  dare  not  name  such  a  thing  to  me ! " 

"  That  is  excellent,"  commended  Jouaneaux.  "  You 
have  the  true  spirit  of  a  novice.  You  must  never 
think  of  marriage  with  any  man."  He  gloated  upon 
her,  his  entire  chest  sighing. 

The  scandal  of  the  situation,  should  any  nun  open 
the  chapel  door,  was  a  danger  which  made  this  inter- 
view the  most  delightful  sin  of  his  life.  But  the  two 
Sisters  most  given  to  vigils  had  watched  all  the  pre- 
vious night,  and  he  counted  upon  nature's  revenge  to 
leave  him  unmolested. 

The  taper  burned  upon  the  altar,  and  there  were 
the  sacred  images  keeping  guard,  chastening  both 
speakers  always  to  a  reverent  murmur  of  the  voice 
which  rose  no  louder,  and  which  to  a  devout  ear  at 
the  door  might  have  suggested,  in  that  period  of 
miracles,  some  gentle  colloquy  between  the  waxen 
St.  Joseph  and  his  waxen  spouse.  Massawippa, 
childishly  innocent,  and  Jouaneaux,  nearly  as  inno- 
cent himself,  would  scarcely  be  such  objects  of  ven- 
eration, though  their  converse  might  prove  equally 
harmless. 

"Is  this  the  good  advice  you  wished  to  give  met" 
inquired  Massawippa. 


150  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

"  It  is  the  beginning  of  it,"  replied  Jouaneaux. 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  wed.  There  is  no  man  fit  to 
wed  me/7  said  the  half-breed  girl  in  high  sincerity, 
leveling  her  gaze  above  his  bright  poll. 

"  Look  you  here,  now ! "  exclaimed  the  Frenchman. 
"  I  am  good  enough  for  you,  if  I  would  marry  you. 
For  while  your  fathers  were  ranging  the  woods,  mine 
were  decent  tillers  of  the  soil,  keeping  their  skins 
white  and  minding  the  priest.  Where  could  you  get 
a  finer  husband  than  I  would  make  you?  But  I  shall 
never  marry.  The  Queen  of  France  would  be  no 
temptation  to  me.  There  you  sit,  enough  to  turn  the 
head  of  our  blessed  St.  Joseph,  for  you  turned  my 
head  the  moment  I  looked  upon  you;  but  I  don't 
want  you." 

"  I  will  bid  you  good-night,"  said  Massawippa,  draw- 
ing her  blanket. 

"At  the  proper  time,  little  Sister;  when  I  speak  my 
mind  freer  of  its  load.  I  must  live  a  bachelor,  it  is 
true;  but  if  I  were  a  free  man  I  would  have  you  to- 
morrow, though  you  scratched  me  with  your  wild 
hands." 

"  I  am  not  for  your  bolts  and  bars,"  returned  Mas- 
sawippa, scornfully. 

"  If  we  were  settled  in  the  house  I  made  upon  my 
land,"  said  Jouaneaux,  tempting  himself  with  the  im- 
possible while  he  leaned  back  smiling,  "  little  need  you 


THE    WOOING    OF  JOUANEAUX.  151 

complain  of  bolts  and  bars.  My  case  is  this :  I  had  a 
grant  of  land  on  the  western  shore  of  this  island  of 
Montreal" 

"Not  where  the  Ottawa  comes  in?"  questioned 
Massawippa,  impaling  him  with  interest. 

"  That  was  the  exact  spot."  Jouaneaux  widened  his 
mouth  pinkly  as  he  became  retrospective.  "And 
never  wouldst  thou  guess  what  turned  me  from  that 
freeholding  to  a  holy  life.  I  may  say  that  I  lead  a 
holy  life,  for  are  not  vows  laid  upon  me  as  strait  as 
on  the  Sulpitian  fathers  f  And  straiter ;  I  am  under 
writings  to  the  nuns  to  serve  them  to  the  day  of  my 
death,  and  they  be  under  writings  to  me  to  maintain 
my  sickness  and  old  age.  It  is  likely  my  skeleton 
barn  still  stands  where  I  set  it  up  to  hold  my  produce. 
Down  I  falls  from  the  ridge  of  it  headlong  to  the 
ground,  and  here  in  the  H6tel-Dieu  I  lay  for  many  a 
month  like  a  rag,  the  Sisters  tending  me.  It  was  then 
I  said  to  myself,  *  Jouaneaux,  these  be  angels  of  pity 
and  patience,  yet  they  soil  their  hands  feeding  pigs 
and  bearing  up  such  as  thou.'  Though  I  am  equal  to 
most  of  my  betters,  little  Sister,  I  always  held  it  well 
to  be  humble-minded.  The  result  is,  I  give  up  my 
land,  I  bind  myself  to  serve  the  saints  in  this  Hotel- 
Dieu,  and  therefore  I  cannot  marry." 

Jouaneaux  collapsed  upon  himself  with  a  groaning 
sigh. 


152  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

"  Then  your  house  and  your  barn  were  left  to  ruin  f  " 
questioned  Massawippa,  passing  without  sympathy  his 
nuptial  restrictions. 

"  My  house !  "  said  Jouaneaux,  looking  up  with  re- 
viving spirit.  "Little  Sister,  you  would  walk  over 
the  roof  of  my  house  and  not  perceive  it." 

"In  midwinter  1» 

"  No,  now,  when  young  grass  springs.  I  could  en- 
dure to  risk  my  store  of  crops  where  the  Iroquois  might 
set  torch  to  them,  but  this  pretty  fellow,  this  outer 
man  of  me,  I  took  no  risks  with  him.  I  chooses  me 
a  stump,  a  nice  hollow  stump." 

"And  squeezed  into  it  like  a  bear f  " 

"  Jouaneaux  is  a  fox,  little  Sister.  Call  your  clumsy 
La  Mouche  the  bear.  No :  I  burrows  me  out  a  house  be- 
neath the  stump  ;  a  good  house,  a  sizable  hole.  Over 
there  is  my  fire-place,  and  the  stump  furnishes  me  a 
chimney.  Any  Iroquois  seeing  my  stump  smoking 
would  merely  say  to  himself,  'It  is  afire.7  Let  a  canoe 
spring  out  on  the  river  or  a  cry  ring  in  the  forest  — 
down  went  Jouaneaux  into  his  house,  and,  as  you 
may  say,  pulled  the  earth  over  his  head.  I  also  kept 
my  canoe  dragged  within  there,  for  there  was  no  tell- 
ing what  might  happen  to  it  elsewhere." 

Massawippa  regarded  him  with  animation.  "  You 
had  also  a  boat  ? " 

"  Indeed,  yes ! "  the  nuns'  man  affirmed,  kindled 
higher  by  such  interest.  "  A  good  birch  craft  it  was, 


THE    WOOING    OF  JOUANEAUX.  153 

and  large  enough  for  two  people."  Another  groaning 
sigh  paid  tribute  to  this  lost  instrument  of  happiness. 

"  But  your  house  may  be  all  crumbled  in  now." 

"  Not  that  house,  little  Sister.  Look  you !  it  had 
ceiling  and  walls  of  timbers  well  fastened  together 
and  covered  with  cement.  Was  not  that  a  snug  house  f 
It  will  endure  like  rock,  and  some  day  I  must  go  and 
see  it  once  more." 

"  Perhaps  you  could  not  find  it  now." 

Jouaneaux  laughed. 

"  My  house  !  I  could  walk  straight  to  it,  little  Sis- 
ter, and  lay  my  hand  on  the  chimney.  That  chimney 
stump,  it  standeth  near  the  river,  the  central  one  in  a 
row  of  five.  Many  other  rows  of  five  there  be  in  the 
field,  but  none,  to  my  eye,  exactly  like  this." 

Massawippa  rose  suddenly  and  dived  like  a  swallow 
up  the  stairway.  So  much  keener  was  her  ear  than 
Jouaneaux's  that  she  was  out  of  sight  before  he  real- 
ized the  probability  of  an  interruption. 

A  hand  was  on  the  chapel  latch,  and  he  turned 
himself  on  the  step  as  Sister  Judith  BrSsoles  entered, 
her  night  taper  in  her  hand.  When  she  discovered 
him,  instead  of  screaming,  she  stood  and  fixed  a  stern 
gaze  on  him,  her  mouth  compressed  and  her  brows 
holding  an  upright  wrinkle  betwixt  them.  Her  ser- 
vitor stood  up  in  his  most  pious  and  depressed  atti- 
tude. 

"  Jouaneaux,  what  are  you  doing  here  T;; 


154  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

"  Honored  Superior,  I  have  been  sitting  half  an 
hour  or  so  meditating  before  the  sacred  images." 

"  Where  is  the  novice  Massawippa  ? " 

"That  is  what  troubles  my  conscience,  honored 
Superior."  Beneath  his  childlike  distress  Jouaneaux 
was  silently  blessing  St.  Joseph  that  it  was  not  Sister 
Mace  with  her  tendency  to  resort  to  the  rood-loft. 
"Here  is  the  case  I  stand  in:  the  little  Sister  you 
call  Massawippa,  she  came  begging  me  for  a  breath 
of  air  by  the  river  before  I  fastened  the  bolts  to- 
night." 

"  You  turned  that  child  upon  the  street ! "  exclaimed 
Sister  Br6soles.  "  I  cannot  find  her  in  any  cell  or 
anywhere  about  the  H6tel-Dieu.  You  have  exceeded 
your  authority,  Jouaneaux.  It  is  a  frightful  thing 
you  have  done ! " 

"  Honored  Superior,  she  will  be  back  in  the  morn- 
ing. Those  half -Indians  are  not  like  French  girls; 
they  have  the  bird  in  them.  This  one  will  hop  over 
all  evil  hap." 

"  I  would  ring  the  tocsin,"  said  Sister  Bresoles,  "  if 
alarming  the  town  would  recall  her.  Without  doubt, 
though,"  she  sighed,  "  the  girl  has  returned  to  her 
father." 

"Honored  Superior,  if  she  comes  not  back  to 
matins  as  clean  and  fresh  as  a  brier-rose,  turn  me  out 
of  the  H6tel-Dieu  » 

"  Get  you  to  bed,  Jouaneaux,  and,  let  me  tell  you, 


THE    WOOING    OF  JOUANEAUX.  155 

you  must  meddle  no  more  with  novices.  These  young 
creatures  are  ever  a  weight  on  one's  heart." 

"  Especially  this  one/'  lamented  Jouaneaux,  as,  leav- 
ing the  chapel  behind  Sister  BrSsoles,  he  rolled  his 
eyes  in  one  last  gaze  at  the  rood-loft. 


11 


XVI. 
FIRST  USE  OF  A  KNIFE. 

•V  HE  capeline,  or  small  black  velvet 
cap,  which  Claire  had  worn  on 
her  journeys  about  New  France 
sheltered  her  head  from  the  high- 
est and  softest  of  April  morning 
skies.  Though  so  early  and  humid  that  mists  were 
still  curling  and  changing  form  around  the  mountain 
and  in  all  the  distances,  it  promised  to  be  a  fine 
day. 

Massawippa  led  the  way  across  the  clearing,  lean- 
ing a  little  to  one  side  as  a  sail-boat  does  when  it  flies 
on  the  wind,  her  moccasined  feet  just  touching  the 
little  billows  of  ploughed  ground ;  and  Claire  followed 
eagerly,  though  she  carried  her  draperies  clutched  in 
her  hands.  The  rising  sun  would  shine  on  their 
backs,  but  before  the  sun  rose  they  were  where  he 
must  grope  for  them  among  great  trees. 

166 


FIRST    USE   OF  A   KNIFE.  157 

One  short  pause  had  been  made  at  the  outset  while 
Massawippa  brought,  from  some  recess  known  to 
herself  among  rocks  or  stumps  in  the  direction  of 
the  mountain,  a  hempen  sack  filled  with  her  supplies. 
She  carried  this,  and  a  package  of  what  Claire  had 
made  up  as  necessaries  from  her  box  in  the  H6tel- 
Dieu,  as  if  two  such  loads  were  wings  placed  under 
the  arms  of  a  half -Huron  maid  to  help  her  feet  skim 
ploughed  ground. 

When  they  had  left  the  clearing  and  were  well  be- 
hind a  massed  shelter  of  forest  trunks,  Claire  was 
moist  and  pink  with  haste  and  exertion,  and  here 
Massawippa  paused. 

They  were,  after  all,  but  young  girls  starting  on 
an  excursion  with  the  morning  sky  for  a  companion, 
and  they  laughed  together  as  they  sat  down  upon  a 
low  rock. 

"  When  I  closed  the  door  of  the  parlor,"  said  Claire 
with  very  pink  lips, "  I  thought  I  heard  some  one 
stirring  in  the  cells.  But  we  have  not  been  followed, 
and  I  trust  not  seen." 

"They  were  rousing  for  matins,"  said  the  half- 
Huron.  "  No,  they  think  I  ran  away  last  night ;  and 
you,  madame,  they  do  not  expect  to  matins.  We  are 
taking  one  risk  which  I  dread,  but  it  must  be 
taken." 

"You  mean  leaving  the  palisade  and  entrance 
doors  unfastened?  My  heart  smote  me  for  those 


158  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DQLLARD. 

good  nuns.  Is  the  risk  very  great  ?  We  have  seen 
no  danger  abroad." 

"  Not  that.  No,  madame.  Their  man,  that  stupid, 
who  ranks  himself  with  Sulpitian  fathers,  he  is  always 
astir  early  among  his  bolts  and  his  pigs.  -It  is  his 
suspicion  I  dread.  For  he  knows  I  slept  in  the  chapel 
last  night,  and  he  told  me  of  his  house,  and  in  that 
house  we  must  sleep  to-night.  Perhaps  he  dare  not 
tell  the  Sisters,  and  in  that  case  he  dare  not  follow  to 
search  his  house  for  us.  We  have  also  his  stupidity 
to  count  on.  Young  men  are  not  wise." 

Present  discomfort,  which  puts  coming  risks 
farther  into  the  future  in  most  minds,  made  Claire 
thrust  out  her  pointed  satin  feet  and  look  at  them 
dubiously. 

"What  would  Dollard  think  of  these,  Massa- 
wippa?  I  have  one  other  pair  of  heeled  shoes  in 
that  packet,  but  they  will  scarcely  hold  out  for  such 
journeying." 

"  Madame,  that  is  why  I  stopped  here,"  said  Massa- 
wippa,  opening  her  sack.  "  It  was  necessary  for  us 
to  kneel  in  the  chapel  and  ask  the  Holy  Family's  aid 
before  we  set  out;  but  we  have  no  time  to  spend 
here.  Let  me  get  you  ready." 

"  Am  I  not  ready  ? "  inquired  Claire,  giving  her 
companion  a  rosy  laugh. 

"  No,  madame ;  your  feet  must  be  moccasined  and 
your  dress  cut  off.77 


FIRST    USE    OF   A   KNIFE.  159 

The  younger  girl  took  from  the  sack  a  pair  of  new 
moccasins  and  knelt  on  one  knee  before  Claire — not 
as  a  menial  would  kneel,  but  as  a  commanding  junior 
who  has  undertaken  maternal  duty.  She  flung  aside 
the  civilized  f  oot-beautifiers  of  Louis'  reign  and  sub- 
stituted Indian  shoes,  lacing  them  securely  with  fine 
thongs. 

"  These  are  the  best  I  had,  madame,  and  I  carried 
them  out  of  the  H6tel-Dieu  under  my  blanket  and 
hid  them  with  our  provisions  last  night.77 

"  What  a  sensible,  kind  child  you  are,  Massawippa ! 
But  while  you  were  doing  this  for  me  I  took  no 
thought  of  any  special  comfort  for  you." 

"  They  will  bear  the  journey ." 

Massawippa  rose  and  took  from  her  store  two 
sheathed  knives  with  cross-hilts  —  not  of  the  finest 
workmanship,  but  of  good  temper:  their  pointed 
blades  glittered  as  she  displayed  them.  She  showed 
her  pupil  how  to  place  one,  sheathed,  at  a  ready 
angle  within  her  bodice,  and  then  took  up  the  other 
like  a  naked  sword. 

"  Now  stand  on  the  rock,  madame,  and  let  me  cut 
your  dress  short." 

"  Oh,  no ! "  pleaded  Claire  for  her  draperies.  u  You 
do  not  understand,  Massawippa.  This  is  simply  the 
dress  which  women  of  my  rank  wear  in  France,  and 
because  I  am  going  into  the  woods  must  I  be  shorn 
to  my  knees  like  a  man  f  " 


160  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

Retreating  a  step  she  stretched  before  her  the  skirt 
of  dark  glace  satin  with  its  Grecian  border  of  em- 
broidery at  the  foot,  and  in  doing  so  let  fall  from  her 
arm  the  overskirt,  which  trailed  its  similar  border 
upon  the  ground  behind  her. 

"Madame,"  argued  Massawippa,  suspending  the 
knife,  "  we  have  a  road  of  danger  before  us.  That 
shining  stuff  hanging  behind  you  will  catch  on 
bushes,  and  weary  you,  and  will  soon  be  ragged 
though  you  nurse  it  on  your  arm  all  the  way." 

"  Cut  that  off,  therefore,"  said  Claire,  turning.  "  I 
am  not  so  childish  as  to  love  the  pall  we  hang  over 
our  gowns  and  elbows.  But  the  skirt  is  not  too  long 
if  it  be  lifted  by  a  girdle  below  the  waist.  Cut  me 
out  a  rope  of  satin,  Massawippa." 

The  hiss  of  a  thick  and  rich  fabric  yielding  to  the 
knife  could  be  heard  behind  her  back.  Massawippa 
presently  lifted  the  plenteous  fleece  thus  shorn,  and 
pared  away  the  border  while  the  elder  girl  held  it. 
Together  they  tied  the  border  about  Claire's  middle 
for  a  support,  and  over  this  pulled  the  top  of  her 
skirt  in  a  pouting  ruff. 

It  was  now  sunrise.  Having  thus  finished  equip- 
ping themselves  they  took  up  each  a  load,  Claire 
bearing  her  packet  on  the  arm  her  surplus  drapery 
had  burdened,  and  when  Massawippa  had  thrust  both 
cast-off  shoes  and  satin  under  a  side  of  the  rock  they 
hurried  on. 


xvn 

JOUANEAUX'S  HOUSE. 


sun  had  almost  described  his 
arc  before  Claire  and  Massawippa 
reached  the  extremity  of  the  isl- 
and. Massawippa  could  have 
walked  two  leagues  in  half  the 
day,  but  wisely  did  she  forecast  that  the  young 
Frenchwoman  would  be  like  a  liberated  canary, 
obliged  to  grow  into  uncaged  use  of  herself  by 
little  flights  and  pauses.  Besides,  Jouaneaux's  house 
would  give  them  safe  asylum  until  they  crossed  the 
river. 

"  That  must  be  his  barn,"  said  Massawippa,  point- 
ing to  a  pile  of  hewed  timbers,  too  far  up  the  bank 
and  too  recently  handled  by  man  to  be  drift.  They 
lay  in  angular  positions,  scarce  an  upright  log  mark- 
ing the  site  of  the  little  structure  Jouaneaux  had 
tried  to  erect  for  his  granary. 


162  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

Two  slim  figures  casting  long  shadows  eastward 
on  the  clearing,  the  girls  stood  trying  to  discern  in 
those  tumultuous  waters  where  the  Ottawa  came  in 
or  where  the  St.  Lawrence's  own  current  wrestled 
around  islands.  The  north  shore  looked  far  off, 
thick  clothed  with  forests.  Massawippa  held  her 
blanket  out  to  canopy  her  eyes,  anxiously  examin- 
ing the  trackless  way  by  which  they  must  cross. 

"  But  the  first  thing  is  to  find  Jouaneaux's  house," 
she  said,  turning  to  Claire. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  that,"  Claire  answered,  "  and 
counting  the  stumps  in  rows  of  five.  All  this  land 
is  covered  with  stumps,  Massawippa." 

"  He  said  the  row  of  five  nearest  the  water." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  how  to  enter  ?  " 

"  That  I  had  no  time  to  learn.  But,  madame,  if  a 
man  went  in  and  out  of  this  underground  house, 
surely  you  and  I  can  do  the  same.  Here  be  five 
stumps  —  the  row  nearest  the  river." 

They  went  to  the  central  stump.  It  had  a  nest  of 
decayed  yellow  wood  within,  crumbled  down  by  the 
tooth  of  the  air,  but  probing  could  not  make  it  hollow. 

"  Perhaps  he  deceived  you  about  his  house,"  said 
Claire. 

Massawippa  met  her  apprehension  with  dark 
seriousness. 

"  It  would  be  the  worst  about  the  boat,"  she  replied. 
"  I  counted  on  that  boat  all  day,  so  that  I  have  not 
thought  what  to  do  without  it." 


"Massawippa  held  her  blanket  out  to  canopy  her  eyes." 


*    •    " 
•  •  '  .  •    ' 


JOUANEAUX'S  HOUSE.  163 

They  moved  along  the  bank,  passing  irregular 
groups  of  stumps,  until  one  standing  by  itself,  much 
smoke-stained,  as  if  it  had  leaked  through  all  its 
fibers,  drew  their  notice.  It  was  deeply  charred  and 
hollow.  Claire  took  up  a  pebble  and  dropped  it  into 
the  stump.  It  rattled  down  some  unseen  hopper  and 
clinked  smartly  on  a  surface  below.  This  was  Joua- 
neaux's  chimney. 

"  He  himself  forgot  where  it  was ! "  sneered  Massa- 
wippa. 

"  Or  some  one  has  occupied  the  house  since,"  sug- 
gested Claire,  "  and  taken  the  other  stumps  away." 

This  was  matter  for  apprehension. 

"  But  stumps  are  not  easily  moved,  madame.  They 
crumble  away  or  are  burned  into  their  roots.  Let  us 
find  the  door." 

Massawippa  dropped  on  her  knees,  and  it  happened 
that  the  first  spot  of  turf  she  struck  with  a  stone 
reverberated.  Claire  stooped  also,  and  like  two  large 
children  playing  at  mud  pies  they  scraped  the  loam 
with  sticks  and  found  a  rusty  iron  handle.  The 
door  rose  by  the  tugging  of  four  determined  arms 
and  left  a  square  dark  hole  in  the  ground.* 

"Wait,"  said  Claire,  as  Massawippa  thrust  her 
head  within  it.  "Poison  vapors  sometimes  lie  in 
such  vaults.  And  let  us  see  if  anything  is  down 
there." 

*  While  Jouaneaux's  house  had  historic  existence,  its  elabora- 
tion, of  course,  had  not. 


164  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLABD. 

Massawippa  took  flint  and  steel  from  her  sack, 
and  Claire  gingerly  held  the  bit  of  scorched  linen 
which  these  were  to  ignite.  The  tinder  being  set  on 
fire,  Massawippa  lighted  a  candle  and  carefully  put 
out  her  bit  of  linen.  They  fastened  a  rope  to  the 
candle  and  let  it  down  into  the  cell. 

The  flame  burned  up  steadily,  revealing  pavement 
and  walls  of  gray  cement,  a  tiny  hearth  and  flue  of 
river  stones,  a  flight  of  slab  steps  descending  from 
the  door,  and  a  small  birch  canoe,  in  which  Joua- 
neaux  had  probably  slept. 

Massawippa  went  down  and  set  the  candle  securely 
on  the  hearth.  Claire  waited  until  Massawippa  had 
returned  and  filled  both  cups  at  the  river.  Then  they 
descended  into  Jouaneaux's  house  and  carefully  shut 
the  door. 

"  Oh  ! "  Claire  exclaimed  as  this  lid  cut  off  the  sun- 
lit world  above  her  head,  "  do  you  suppose  we  can 
easily  open  it  again  from  within  ?  " 

"Yes,  madame;  as  easily  as  the  Iroquois  could 
raise  it  from  without.  Jouaneaux  was  skillful  for  a 
Frenchman.  But  he  relied  on  secrecy,  for  there  are 
no  fastenings  to  his  door.  A  fox  he  called  himself." 

"  It  would  be  charming,"  said  Claire,  "  if  we  could 
carry  this  pit  with  us  on  our  way." 

Drift-bark  and  small  sticks,  half  charred,  were 
piled  against  the  chimney-back.  To  these  Massa- 
wippa set  a  light,  blowing  and  cheering  it  until  it 


JOUANE 'AUX'S  HOUSE.  165 

rose  to  cheer  her  and  helped  the  candle  illuminate 
their  retreat. 

"  Sit  on  the  bottom  of  this  boat,  madame,"  said 
Massawippa,  folding  her  blanket  and  placing  it 
there.  "  Let  us  eat  now,  instead  of  nibbling  bits  of 
bread." 

Claire  took  up  one  of  the  cups  and  drank  reluc- 
tantly of  river  water,  saying,  "  I  am  so  thirsty ! 
While  you  are  taking  out  the  loaves  and  the  meat, 
show  me  all  you  have  in  the  sack,  Massawippa." 

Massawippa  therefore  sat  on  the  floor  with  the 
sack's  mouth  spread  in  her  lap,  and  Claire  leaned 
forward  from  her  seat  on  the  boat. 

"  There  were  the  cups  and  the  candle  and  one  rope 
and  the  tinder  that  we  have  taken  out,"  said  Massa- 
wippa. She  did  not  explain  that  she  despised  the 
promiscuous  use  of  pewter  cups,  and  would  not  use 
one  in  common  with  the  Queen  of  Prance. 

Out  of  the  bag,  jostled  by  every  step  of  the  day's 
journey,  came  unsorted  a  loaf  of  bread,  some  cured 
eels,  a  second  rope, —  "I  brought  ropes  for  rafts," 
observed  Massawippa, —  a  lump  of  salt,  a  piece  of 
loaf  sugar, —  "  For  you,  madame," —  more  bread,  more 
eels,  another  length  of  rope, —  "  I  dared  not  buy  all 
we  needed  at  one  place  or  at  two  places,"  explained 
Massawippa, —  the  tinder-box,  a  hatchet,  and,  last, 
half  a  louis  in  coin,  which  Massawippa  now  returned 
to  Claire. 


166  THE   ROMANCE    OF   BOLLARD. 

"  Be  my  purse-bearer  still,"  said  Claire,  pushing  it 
back.  "  If  there  be  things  we  need  to  buy  in  the  wil- 
derness, you  will  know  how  to  select  them." 

"We  will  keep  it  for  the  walking  woman  above 
Carillon,"  said  the  half-breed  girl,  sagely;  and  she 
put  it  in  the  careful  bank  of  her  tinder-box,  bestow- 
ing this  in  the  safest  part  of  her  dress. 

They  ate  a  hearty  supper  of  eels  and  bread,  and 
breaking  the  sugar  in  bits  nibbled  it  afterwards, 
talking  and  looking  at  the  coals  on  Jouaneaux's 
hearth. 

Massawippa  put  their  candle  out.  Their  low  voices 
echoed  from  the  sides  of  the  underground  house 
and  made  a  booming  in  their  heads,  but  all  sound  of 
the  river's  wash  so  near  them,  or  of  the  organ  mur- 
mur of  the  forest  trees,  was  shut  away. 

They  cast  stealthy  occasional  looks  up  at  the  trap- 
door, but  neither  said  to  the  other  that  she  dreaded  to 
see  a  painted  face  peering  there,  or  even  apprehended 
the  nuns'  man. 

"While  night  and  day  were  yet  blended  they  turned 
the  canoe  over,  and  propped  it  in  a  secure  position 
with  the  help  of  the  paddle.  Claire  brought  her  cloak 
out  of  her  packet,  and  this  they  made  their  cushion  in 
the  canoe. 

The  half-breed  took  the  European's  head  upon  her 
childish  shoulder,  wrapping  the  older  dependent  well 
with  her  own  blanket.  Of  all  her  experiences  Claire 


JOUANEAUX'S   HOUSE.  167 

thought  this  the  strangest  —  that  she  should  be  rest- 
ing like  a  sister  on  the  breast  of  a  little  Indian  maid 
in  an  underground  chamber  of  the  wilderness. 

"  If  it  were  not  for  you,  madame,"  spoke  Massa- 
wippa,  "  I  would  put  this  canoe  to  soak  in  the  water 
to-night.  We  must  lose  time  to  do  it  to-morrow.  It 
has  lain  so  long  out  of  water  it  will  scarcely  be  safe 
for  us  to  venture  across  in." 

"  Massawippa,  I  thought  we  could  take  this  boat 
and  go  directly  up  the  Ottawa  in  it." 

"Madame,  you  know  nothing  about  the  current. 
And  at  Carillon,  above  Two  Mountains  Lake,  there 
is  a  place  so  swift  that  I  could  not  paddle  against 
it.  We  should  have  to  carry  around  hard  places. 
And  there  is  the  danger  of  meeting  the  Iroquois  or 
being  overtaken  by  some." 

"  For  Bollard  said  there  were  hundreds  coming  up 
from  the  south,"  whispered  Claire.  "  We  must,  in- 
deed, hide  ourselves  from  all  canoes  passing  on  the 
river.  I  took  no  thought  of  that." 

"  It  will  be  best  to  go  direct  to  the  walking  woman 
and  get  a  boat  of  her.  We  have  only  to  keep  the  river 
in  sight  to  find  the  expedition.  If  they  camp  on  the 
other  shore,  either  below  or  above  Carillon,  we  will 
have  to  go  to  Carillon  for  a  boat.  The  Chaudifere 
rapids  will  be  hard  for  them  to  pass,  madame." 

"  Who  is  this  walking  woman  you  speak  of,  Massa- 
wippa t " 


168  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAJRD. 

"  I  do  not  know,  madame.  The  Hurons  say  she  is 
an  Indian  woman,  and  some  French  have  claimed  her 
for  a  saint  of  the  Holy  Church.  She  makes  good 
birch  canoes,  which  are  prized  by  those  who  can 
get  them.  She  is  nnder  a  vow  never  to  sit  or  lie  down, 
and  they  say  she  goes  constantly  from  Monnt  Calvary 
to  Carillon,  for  at  Carillon  she  lives  or  walks  about 
working  at  her  boats.  On  Mount  Calvary  are  seven 
holy  chapels  built  of  stone,  and  the  walking  woman 
tends  these  chapels,  but  she  is  too  humble  to  live 
near  them.  And  even  the  Iroquois  dare  not  touch 
her." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  her  ? " 

"  I  saw  her  walking  along  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
bent  over  upon  a  stick  like  a  very  old  woman.  How 
tired  she  must  be !  for  last  summer  it  was  told  along 
the  Ottawa  that  she  had  been  years  upon  her  feet." 

"  Were  you  afraid  of  her  ? " 

"  No,  madame.  I  am  not  afraid  of  any  holy  person 
who  lives  in  the  woods." 

"  But  did  you  ever  see  her  face,  Massawippa  ?  What 
did  she  cover  herself  with  f ??  inquired  Claire,  uncom- 
fortably thinking  of  the  recluse  on  St.  Bernard. 

"Far  up  the  mountain  I  saw  her  face  like  a  dot. 
She  was  covered,  head  and  all,  in  a  blanket  the  color 
of  gray  rock.  And  that  is  all  I  know  about  her, 
madame.7' 

"  Yet  you  count  on  getting  a  boat  from  her  ?  * 


JOUANE AUK'S  HOUSE.  169 

"  If  she  be  a  holy  woman,  madame,  and  sees  us  in 
trouble,  will  she  not  help  us ! " 

The  rosiness  of  glowing  embers  tinted  the  walls  of 
Jouaneaux's  house,  and  perfectly  the  smoke  sought 
its  flue. 

Lying  quite  still  in  weariness,  and  holding  each 
other  for  warmth  and  comfort,  the  two  young  creat- 
ures felt  such  thoughts  rise  and  rush  to  speech  as 
semi-darkness  fosters  when  we  are  on  the  edge  of 
great  perils. 

"  Madame/'  said  Massawippa,  "  do  you  understand 
how  it  will  seem  to  be  dead  t " 

"  I  was  just  thinking  of  it,  Massawippa,  and  that 
we  shall  soon  know.  There  is  no  imagining  such  a 
change ;  yet  it  may  be  no  stranger  than  stripping  off 
a  glove  of  kid-skin  and  leaving  the  naked  hand, 
which  is,  after  all,  the  natural  hand.  Do  you  think 
it  possible  that  anything  has  happened  to  the 
expedition  yett  They  are  three  days  out  from 
Montreal." 

"  They  cannot  be  far  up  the  Ottawa,  madame.  No, 
I  think  they  have  not  met  the  Iroquois." 

After  such  sleep  as  makes  the  whole  night  but  a 
pause  between  two  sentences,  they  opened  their  eyes 
to  behold  a  hint  of  daylight  glimmering  down  their 
stump  chimney,  and  Claire  exclaimed : 

"  Child,  did  you  bear  the  weight  of  my  head  all 
night!'7 


170  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLAED. 

"  I  don't  know,  madame,"  replied  Massawippa, 
laughing.  "  This  canoe  floated  us  wondrously  in  sleep. 
If  it  but  cany  us  on  the  Ottawa  as  well,  we  shall  pass 
over  without  trouble.77 

They  drew  it  up  the  steps  of  Jouaneaux's  house  be- 
fore eating  their  breakfast,  and  carried  it  between 
them  to  the  river.  Massawippa  fastened  one  of  her 
ropes  to  it  and  knotted  the  other  end  around  a  tree. 
She  crept  down  to  the  water's  edge  pushing  the 
canoe,  filled  it  with  small  rocks,  and  sunk  it.  They 
left  their  craft  thus  until  late  afternoon,  while  they 
staid  cautiously  underground,  feeding  the  little  fire 
with  slab  chips  from  Jouaneaux's  barn,  and  exchang- 
ing low-voiced  chat. 

Such  close  contact  in  a  common  peril  and  endeavor 
was  not  without  its  effect  on  both  of  them.  Claire 
from  superior  had  changed  to  pupil,  and  seemed 
developing  hardihood  without  losing  her  soft  refine- 
ments. Massawippa,  mature  for  her  years,  and  exactly 
nice,  as  became  a  princess,  in  all  her  personal  habits, 
had  from  the  moment  of  meeting  this  European 
dropped  her  taciturn  Indian  speech.  She  uncon- 
sciously imitated  while  she  protected  a  creature  so 
much  finer  than  herself. 

Venturing  forth  when  shadows  were  stretching 
from  the  west  across  that  angry  mass  of  waters,  they 
emptied  their  canoe  from  its  wetting  and  wiped  it 
out  with  the  hempen  sack.  But  Massawippa  still  shook 
her  head  at  it. 


JOUANEAUX'S  HOUSE.  171 

"  Madame,  I  am  afraid  this  canoe  will  not  carry  us 
well  Can  you  swim  ? " 

"  No,  Massawippa ;  I  never  learned  to  do  anything 
useful,"  replied  Claire. 

"We  might  make  a  raft  of  those  barn  timbers. 
But,  madame,  the  canoe  would  take  us  swiftly,  and 
the  raft  is  clumsy  in  such  swirls  and  cross- waters  as 
these.  You  must  take  one  of  the  cups  in  your  hand 
and  dip  out  the  water  while  I  paddle.  Shall  we  wait 
until  to-morrow  T  n 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  urged  Claire.  "  We  have  lost  one  day 
for  it.  If  the  canoe  will  carry  us  at  all,  Massawippa, 
I  believe  it  will  carry  us  now." 

They  accordingly  put  their  supplies  back  into  the 
bag,  but  Massawippa  cautiously  wound  all  the  ropes 
around  her  waist  and  secured  them  like  a  girdle.  She 
brought  the  paddle  from  Jouaneaux's  house,  and  per- 
haps with  regret  closed  for  the  last  time  its  trap-door 
above  it. 

Woods,  rocks,  islands,  and  water  were  steeped 
in  a  wonderful  amber  light.  The  two  girls  sat 
down  close  by  the  river  edge  and  ate  a  supper 
before  embarking.  Then  Massawippa  launched  the 
canoe  and  carefully  placed  herself  and  Claire  over 
the  keel. 

"Unfasten  your  cloak  and  let  it  fall  from  your 
shoulders,  madame.  You  see  my  blanket  lies  on  the 
sack.  We  must  have  nothing  to  drag  us  under  in 

case  of  mischance." 
12 


172  THE    ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

So,  dipping  with  skillful  rapidity,  she  ventured  out 
across  the  current. 

They  fared  well  until  far  on  in  their  undertaking. 
Immediately  the  little  craft  oozed  as  if  its  entire  skin 
had  grown  leaky  ;  but  Claire  bailed  with  desperate 
swiftness ;  the  paddle  dipped  from  side  to  side,  flash- 
ing in  the  sun,  which  now  lay  level  with  the  rivers. 

Massawippa  felt  the  canoe  settling,  turned  it 
towards  the  nearest  island,  and  tore  the  water  with 
her  speed. 

"Madame!7'  she  cried,  her  cry  merging  into  one 
with  Claire's  "  O  Massawippa,  we  are  going  down ! " 

They  were  close  to  the  island's  ribbed  side  when 
a  bubbling  and  roaring  confusion  overtook  Claire's 
ears,  and  she  was  drenched,  strangled,  and  still  gulp- 
ing in  her  death  until  all  sensation  passed  away. 

Life  returned  through  hearing;  her  head  was 
filled  with  humming  noises,  she  was  giving  back  the 
water  which  had  been  forced  upon  her,  and  lying 
across  a  rock  supported  by  Massawippa.  In  the  midst 
of  her  chill  misery  she  noted  that  shadow  was  settling 
on  the  river,  and  all  the  cheerful  ruddiness  of  western 
light  was  gone. 

"  Madame,  are  you  able  to  get  up  the  rocks  now  ? " 
anxiously  spoke  Massawippa.  "  We  must  hide  on  this 
island  to-night." 

"  How  did  we  reach  it  ? "  Claire  gasped. 

"  I  swam,  and  dragged  you.77 


JOUAXEAUX'S   HOUSE.  173 

"  Then  here  had  been  the  end  of  my  expedition  but 
for  you,  Massawippa." 

"  There  was  the  end  of  our  supplies.  All  gone, 
madame,  except  the  ropes  I  put  around  my  waist,  and 
they  would  have  drowned  me  with  their  weight  if  the 
island  had  not  been  almost  under  our  feet.  It  is  well 
we  ate  and  filled  ourselves,  for  the  saints  alone  know 
where  we  shall  get  breakfast." 

Claire  turned  her  face  on  the  rock. 

"  My  packet  of  linen  and  clean  comforts,  Massa- 
wippa ! "  she  regretted. 

"  The  cloak  and  the  blanket  were  of  more  account, 
madame.  The  Frenchman's  boat  played  us  a  fine 
trick.  But  we  are  here.  And  we  have  still  our  knives 
and  tinder." 

Before  the  long  northern  twilight  had  double-dyed 
itself  into  night,  they  crept  up  the  island's  rocky  side, 
explored  its  small  circumference,  and  found  near  the 
western  edge  a  dry  hollow,  the  socket  of  an  uprooted 
tree.  Into  this  Massawippa  piled  all  the  loose  leaves 
she  could  find,  and  cut  some  branches  full  of  tender 
foliage  from  the  trees  to  shelter  them.  Had  her 
tinder  been  dry,  she  dared  not  make  a  light  to  be 
seen  from  the  river. 

Drenched  and  heavy  through  all  their  garments, 
they  nestled  closely  down  together  and  shivered  in  the 
chill  breath  of  night.  An  emaciated  moon  lent  them 
enough  cadaverous  light  to  make  them  apprehensive 


174  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

of  noises  on  the  rushing  water.  Sometimes  they 
dozed,  sometimes  they  whispered  to  each  other,  some- 
times they  startled  each  other  by  involuntary  shivers. 
But  measured  by  patient  breath,  by  moments  of  en- 
durance succeeding  one  another  in  what  then  seemed 
endless  duration,  this  second  night  of  their  journey 
passed  away,  and  nothing  upon  the  island  or  upon  the 
two  rivers  terrified  them. 

Just  at  the  pearl-blue  time  of  dawn  canoes  grew  on 
the  southward  sweep  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 

Claire  touched  Massawippa,  and  Massawippa 
nodded.  They  dared  scarcely  breathe,  but  watched 
along  the  level  of  the  sward,  careful  not  to  rear  a 
feature  above  the  dull  leaves. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  canoes.  A  splash  of 
unskillful  paddling  grew  distinct;  familiar  outlines 
projected  familiar  faces. 

"  Oh,  it  is  Dollard  1"  Claire's  whisper  was  a  stran- 
gled scream.  "  There  are  the  men  of  the  French  ex- 
pedition !  There  is  my  —  " 

"  Hush  ! "  whispered  Massawippa.  "  Madame,  do 
you  want  them  to  see  us,  and  turn  and  send  us  back 
to  Montreal  ?" 

"  0  my  Dollard  ! n  Claire  clasped  her  own  hand 
over  her  mouth  while  she  sobbed.  "  Drowned  and 
wretched  and  homesick  for  you,  must  I  see  you  pass 
me  by,  never  turning  a  glance  this  way  f  " 

"Hush,    madame,"    begged    Massawippa,    adding 


JOUANEAUX'S  HOUSE.  175 

her  hand  to  Claire's.  "  Sound  goes  like  a  bird  over 
water." 

"  This  is  our  one  chance  to  reach  him,"  struggled 
Claire.  "  Oh,  the  woods,  and  the  rivers,  and  the  Iro- 
quois —  they  are  all  coming  between  us  again ! " 

"  It  is  no  chance  at  all,  madame.  I  know  what  my 
father  would  do." 

"O  my  Dollard!"  groaned  Claire  in  the  dead 
leaves.  "  Oh,  do  not  let  him  go  by !  Must  he  flit  and 
flit  from  me  —  must  I  follow  him  so  through  space 
forever  when  we  are  dead  T  " 

Almost  like  dream-men,  wreathed  slowly  about  by 
mists,  their  alternating  paddles  making  no  sound 
which  could  be  caught  by  the  woman  on  the  island 
living  so  keenly  in  her  ears,  the  expedition  passed 
into  the  mouth  of  the  Ottawa.  When  they  could  be 
seen  no  more,  Claire  lay  in  dejection  like  death. 


XVIII. 
THE  WALKING  HEBMIT. 

JBLEY  have  been  these  five*  days 
getting  past  Ste.  Anne/7  remarked 
Massawippa.  "I  could  not  have 
paddled  against  that  current  with 
the  best  of  canoes.  My  father  will 
soon  follow;  we  dare  scarcely  stir  until  my  father 
passes.  He  would  see  us  if  we  did  more  than  breathe ; 
the  Huron  knows  all  things  around  him.  And  if  he 
finds  us,  he  will  put  us  back  into  safety,  after  all  our 
trouble." 

Claire  was  weeping  on  her  damp  arms,  and  lay  quite 
as  still  as  the  younger  woman  could  wish,  while  day- 
light, sunlight,  and  winged  life  grew  around  them. 

*  "  Furent  arrStes  huit  jours  au  bout  de  Tile  de  Montreal, 
dans  un  endroit  tres-rapide  qu'ils  avaient  a  traverser,"  says  the 
French  chronicler.  But  for  romancer's  purposes,  the  liberty  is 
taken  of  shortening  the  time. 

176 


THE    WALKING    HERMIT.  177 

Hour  after  hour  passed.  Annahotaha's  canoes  did 
not  appear.  Still  the  half -Huron  stoic  watched  south- 
ward, lying  with  her  cheek  on  the  leaves,  clasping  her 
eyelids  almost  shut  to  protect  her  patient  sight  from 
the  glare  on  the  water. 

"Madame,  are  you  hungry! " 

"  In  my  heart  I  am/'  said  Claire. 

"  That  is  because  we  were  so  drenched.  My  father 
will  soon  pass ;  and  when  we  have  food  and  dry  skins 
our  courage  will  come  up  again.  There  is  only  one 
way  to  reach  the  north  shore.  If  my  father  would  go 
by,  I  could  cut  limbs  for  the  raf t." 

Claire  gave  listless  attention. 

"We  must  cut  branches  as  large  as  we  can  with 
our  knives,  the  hatchet  being  gone,  and  we  shall  be 
drenched  again ;  but  the  river's  arm  shall  not  hold  us 
back." 

When  the  sun  stood  overhead  without  having 
brought  Annahotaha,  Claire  could  endure  her  stiff 
discomfort  no  longer. 

"  Lie  still,  madame,"  begged  Massawippa. 

"My  child,"  returned  Claire,  fretfully,  "I  do  not 
care  if  the  Iroquois  see  me  and  scalp  me." 

"And  me  also  1" 

"  No,  not  you." 

"  Have  a  little  more  patience,  madame,  for  I  do  see 
specks  like  wild  ducks  riding  yonder.  They  may  be 
the  Huron  canoes," 


178  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

The  little  more  patience,  wrung  like  a  last  tax 
from  exhaustion,  was  measured  out,  and  not 
vainly. 

The  specks  like  wild  ducks  rode  nearer,  shaping 
themselves  into  Huron  canoes. 

In  rigid  calm  the  half-breed  girl  watched  them  ap- 
proach, fly  past  with  regular  and  beautiful  motion  of 
the  paddles,  and  make  their  entrance  into  the  Ottawa. 
Her  eyes  shone  across  the  leaves,  but  Annahotaha, 
sweeping  all  the  horizon  with  a  sight  formed  and 
trained  to  keenest  use,  caught  no  sign  of  ambush  or 
human  life  on  the  islands. 

When  the  fleet  was  far  off,  his  young  daughter 
rose  up  and  unsheathed  her  knife  to  cut  raft- 
wood. 

"My  father  is  a  great  man,"  was  the  only  weak- 
ness she  allowed  herself,  and  in  this  her  gratified 
pride  was  restricted  to  a  mere  statement  of  fact. 

The  raft,  made  of  many  large  branches  bound 
securely  together,  occupied  them  some  time.  On 
this  frail  and  uneasy  flooring  the  half-breed  placed 
her  companion.  Claire  was  instructed  to  hold  to 
it  though  the  water  should  rise  around  her 
waist. 

The  space  betwixt  island  and  north  shore  was  a 
very  dangerous  passage  for  them.  Massawippa  swam 
and  propelled  the  raft  with  the  current,  fighting  for 
it  midway,  while  Claire  clung  in  desperation  and 


THE    WALKING   HERMIT.  179 

begged  the  brown  face  turned  up  to  her  from  the 
water  to  let  her  go  and  to  swim  out  alone. 

When  they  finally  stood  on  the  north  bank,  streams 
of  water  running  down  their  persons,  Massawippa's 
black  hair  shining  as  it  clung  to  her  cheeks,  and  their 
raft  escaping  from  their  reach,  they  felt  that  a  great 
gulf  of  experience  divided  them  from  the  island  and 
Jouaneaux's  house. 

"  This  time  we  lose  our  ropes/7  said  the  half-breed 
girl.  "  My  hands  were  too  numb.  And  now  we  have 
nothing  left  but  our  knives  and  tinder." 

To  Claire  the  rest  of  the  day  was  a  heavy  dream. 
Giddy  from  fasting  and  exposure,  with  swimming 
eyes  she  saw  the  landscape.  Sometimes  Massawippa 
walked  with  an  arm  around  her  waist,  sometimes 
held  low  boughs  out  of  her  way,  introducing  her  to  the 
deeper  depths  of  Canadian  forest.  They  did  not  talk, 
but  reserved  their  strength  for  plodding;  and  thus 
they  edged  along  the  curves  and  windings  of  the 
Ottawa.  Claire  took  no  thought  of  Massawippa's 
destination  for  the  night;  they  were  making  prog- 
ress if  they  followed  beside  the  track  of  the 
expedition. 

Before  dark  she  noticed  that  the  land  ascended, 
and  afterwards  they  left  the  river  below,  for  a  gloom- 
ing pile  of  mountain  was  to  be  climbed.  Perhaps  no 
wearier  feet  ever  toiled  up  that  steep  during  all  the 
following  years,  though  the  mountain  was  piously 


180  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

named  Calvary  and  its  top  held  sacred  as  a  shrine,  to 
be  visited  by  many  a  pilgrim.* 

Sometimes  the  two  girls  hugged  this  rugged  ascent, 
lying  against  it,  and  paused  for  breath.  The  rush 
and  purr  of  the  river  went  on  below,  and  all  the  wil- 
derness night  sounds  were  magnified  by  their  nega- 
tions —  the  night  silences. 

At  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  starlight  made 
indistinctly  visible  a  number  of  low  stone  structures, 
each  having  a  rough  cross  above  its  door.  These 
were  the  seven  chapels  Massawippa  had  told  about. 
Whether  they  stood  in  regular  design  or  were  dotted 
about  on  the  plateau,  Claire  scarcely  used  her  heavy 
eyes  to  discern.  She  was  comforted  by  Massawippa's 
whisper  that  they  must  sleep  in  the  first  chapel,  and 
by  the  sound  of  heavy  hinges  grating,  as  if  the  door 
yielded  unwillingly  an  entrance  to  such  benighted 
pilgrims. 

The  tomb-like  inclosure  was  quite  as  chill  as  the 
mountain  air  outside.  They  stood  on  uneven  stone 
flooring,  and  listened  for  any  breathing  beside  their 
own. 

"  Let  me  feel  all  around  the  walls  and  about  the 
altar,  madame,"  whispered  Massawippa. 

*  "  The  large  mountain  was  named  Le  Calvaire  by  the  piety 
of  the  first  settlers.  At  its  summit  were  seven  chapels, — 
memorials  of  the  mystic  seven  of  St.  John's  vision, — the  scene 
of  many  a  pilgrimage.  Gallant  cavalier  and  high-born  lady 
from  their  fastness  at  Villemarie  toiled  side  by  side  up  the  same 
weary  height. " —  Picturesque  Canada. 


THE    WALKING    HERMIT.  181 

"  Let  me  continue  with  you,  then,"  whispered  back 
Claire.  "  Have  you  been  in  this  place  before!" 

"  I  have  been  in  all  the  chapels,  madame." 

Claire  held  to  Massawippa's  beaver  gown  and 
stepped  grotesquely  in  her  tracks  as  the  half-breed 
moved  forward  with  stretched,  exploring  fingers. 
When  this  blind  progress  brought  them  to  the 
diminutive  altar,  they  failed  not  to  kneel  before  it 
and  whisper  some  tired  orisons. 

After  one  round  of  the  chapel  they  groped  back  to 
the  altar,  assured  that  no  foe  lurked  with  them. 

The  chancel  rail  felt  like  the  smooth  rind  of  a  tree. 
Within  the  rail  Massawippa  said  a  wooden  platform 
was  built,  on  which  it  could  be  no  sin  against  Heaven 
for  such  forlorn  beings  to  sleep. 

Their 'clothes  were  now  nearly  dry;  but  footsore 
and  weak  with  hunger,  Claire  sunk  upon  this  refuge, 
disregarding  dust  which  had  settled  there  in  silence 
and  dimness  all  the  days  of  the  past  winter.  Exhaust- 
ion made  her  first  posture  the  right  one.  Scarcely 
breathing,  she  would  have  sunk  at  once  to  stupor,  but 
Massawippa  hissed  joyful  whispers  through  the  dark. 

"  Madame ! " 

"  What  is  it  t" 

*  Madame,  I  have  been  feeling  the  top  of  the  altar." 

"  Do  no  sacrilege,  Massawippa." 

"  But  last  summer  the  walking  woman  put  bread 
and  roasted  birds  on  the  altars  for  an  offering.  She 
has  put  some  here  to-day.  Take  this." 


182  THE    ROMANCE    OF   DOLLAED. 

Claire  encountered  a  groping  hand  full  of  some- 
thing which  touch  received  as  food.  Without  further 
parley  she  sat  up  and  ate.  The  very  gentle  sounds  of 
mastication  which  even  dainty  women  may  make 
when  crisp  morsels  tempt  the  hound  of  starvation 
that  is  within  them  could  be  heard  in  the  dark. 
Claire's  less  active  animal  nature  was  first  silenced, 
and  in  compunction  she  spoke. 

"  If  the  hermit  put  these  things  on  the  altar  for  an 
offering,  we  are  robbing  a  shrine." 

"  She  was  willing  for  any  pilgrim  to  carry  them 
away,  madame.  The  coureurs  de  bois  visit  these 
chapels  and  eat  her  birds.  She  is  alive,  madame! 
She  is  not  dead !  We  shall  find  her  at  Carillon  and 
get  our  canoe  of  her ;  and  the  saints  be  praised  for  so 
helping  us ! " 

They  finished  their  meal  and  stretched  themselves 
upon  the  platform.  Not  a  delicious  scrap  which  could 
be  eaten  was  left,  but  Massawippa  piously  dropped 
the  bones  outside  the  chancel  rail. 

"  We  are  in  sanctuary,''  said  Claire,  her  eyes  pressed 
by  the  weight  of  darkness.  Venturing  with  checked 
voice,  the  sweeter  for  such  suppression  and  necessity 
of  utterance,  she  sung  above  their  heads  into  the  low 
arching  hollow  a  vesper  hymn  in  monk's  Latin ;  after 
which  they  slept  as  they  had  slept  in  Jouaneaux's 
house,  and  awoke  to  find  the  walking  woman  gazing 
over  the  rail  at  them. 


THE    WALKING    HERMIT.  183 

She  was  so  old  that  her  many  wrinkles  seemed 
carved  in  hard  wood.  Her  features  were  unmistak- 
ably Indian ;  but  from  the  gray  blanket  loosely  drap- 
ing her,  and  even  from  her  inner  wrappings  of  soft 
furs,  came  the  smell  of  wholesome  herbs.  She  held  a 
long  flask  in  one  hand,  evidently  a  bottle  lost  or 
thrown  away  by  some  passing  ranger,  and  she  ex- 
tended it  to  Claire,  her  eyes  twinkling  pleasantly. 

Being  relieved  of  it  she  turned  and  tapped  with  her 
staff — for  her  moccasins  were  silent — slowly  around 
the  chapel,  mechanically  keeping  herself  in  motion. 
She  was  so  different  from  fanatics  who  bind  them- 
selves in  by  walls  that  in  watching  her  Claire  forgot 
the  flask. 

Massawippa  uncorked  it. 

"  This  is  a  drink  she  brews,  madame.  I  have  heard 
in  my  father's  camp  that  she  brews  it  to  keep  herself 
strong  and  tireless." 

Claire  tasted  and  Massawippa  drank  the  liquid, 
with  unwonted  disregard  of  a  common  bottle  mouth. 
It  was  too  tepid  to  be  refreshing,  but  left  a  wild  and 
spicy  tang,  delicious  as  the  cleansed  sensation  of  re- 
turning health. 

"  Good  mother,"  said  Claire  as  she  gave  the  hermit's 
flask  back,  "  have  you  seen  white  men  in  canoes  on 
the  river!" 

The  walking  woman  leaned  lower  on  her  staff  with 
keen  attention.  Massawippa  repeated  Claire's  words 


184  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

in  Huron,  and  added  much  inquiry  of  her  own.  The 
walking  woman  moved  back  and  forth  beside  the 
rail,  making  gestures  with  her  staff  and  uttering 
gutturals,  until  she  ended  by  beckoning  to  them  and 
leading  them  out  of  the  chapel. 

Massawippa  interpreted  her  as  saying  that  she  had 
seen  the  white  men  and  the  Hurons  following  them, 
and  had  heard  a  voice  in  the  woods  speak  out,  "  Great 
deeds  will  now  be  done."  She  would  take  care  of  all 
whom  the  saints  sheltered  behind  their  altar,  but  she 
chid  Massawippa  for  prying  into  mysteries  when  the 
girl  asked  if  she  had  foreseen  their  coming.  They 
were  to  go  with  her  to  Carillon  and  get  a  canoe. 

She  had  breakfast  for  them  down  the  mountain 
north  of  the  chapels. 

The  world  is  full  of  resurrections  of  the  body.  It 
was  nothing  for  two  young  creatures  to  rise  up  from 
their  hard  bed  and  plunge  heartily  into  the  dew  and 
gladness  of  morning — the  first  morning  of  May. 

But  the  miracle  of  life  is  that  coming  of  a  person 
who  instantly  unlocks  all  our  resources,  among  which 
we  have  groped  forlorn  and  disinherited.  Friend  or 
lover,  he  enriches  us  with  what  was  before  our  own, 
yet  what  we  never  should  have  gathered  without  the 
solvent  of  his  touch. 

In  some  degree  the  walking  woman  came  like  such 
a  prophet  to  Claire.  As  she  brushed  down  the  mount- 
ain-side with  Massawippa,  followed  by  woman  and 


THE    WALKING    HERMIT.  185 

clinking  staff,  all  things  seemed  easy  to  do.  The  heal- 
ing of  the  woods  flowed  over  her  anxiety,  and  like  an 
urchin  she  pried  under  moss  and  within  logs  for  an 
instant's  peep  at  life  swarming  there.  Never  before 
had  she  felt  turned  loose  to  Nature,  with  the  bounds 
of  her  past  fallen  away,  and  the  freedom  which  at 
first  abashed  her  now  became  like  the  lifting  of  wings. 
Sweet  smells  of  wood  mold  and  damp  greenery  came 
from  this  ancient  forest  like  the  long-preserved 
essence  of  primeval  gladness.  It  did  not  have  its 
summer  density  of  leafage,  but  the  rocks  were  always 
there,  heaving  their  placid  backs  from  the  soil  in  the 
majesty  of  everlasting  quiet. 

The  walking  woman  lifted  her  stick  and  struck 
upon  their  rocky  path,  which  answered  with  a  hollow 
booming,  as  if  drums  were  beaten  underground.  She 
gave  Claire  a  wrinkled  smile. 

"  The  rocks  do  the  same  far  to  the  eastward/'  said 
Massawippa.  "  It  is  the  earth's  heart  which  answers — 
we  walk  so  close  to  it  here.  And,  madame,  I  never 
saw  any  snakes  in  this  fair  land." 


XIX. 

THE  HEEOE8  OF  THE  LONG  SAUT.* 

was  morning  by  the  Long  Saut,  that  length 
of  boiling  rapids  which  had  barred  the 
French  expedition's  farther  progress  up 
the  Ottawa.  The  seventeen  Frenchmen, 
four  Algonquins,  and  forty  Hurons  were 
encamped  together  in  an  open  space  on  the  west 
bank  of  the  river.  Their  kettles  were  slung  for 
breakfast,  the  fires  blinking  pinkly  in  luminous 
morning  air;  their  morning  hymn  had  not  long 
ceased  to  echo  from  the  forest  around  the  clearing. 
Three  times  the  previous  day  these  men  had  prayed 
their  prayers  together  in  three  languages. 

Their  position  at  the  foot  of  the  rapids  was  well 
taken.  The  Iroquois  must  pass  them.  In  the  clear- 

*  Pronounced  "So."  The  Abb<§  Faillon  with  exactness  locates 
the  engagement  at  the  foot  of  the  Long  Saut  rapids,  "  a  huit  ou 
dix  lieues  au-dessus  de  Tile  de  Montreal,  et  au-dessous  du  saut 
dit  de  la  Chaudiere*" 

186 


THE  HEROES  OF  THE  LONG  SAUT.     187 

ing  stood  a  dilapidated  fort,  a  mere  stockade* of  sap- 
ling trunks,  built  the  autumn  before  by  an  Algonquin 
war  party;  but  Dollard's  party  counted  upon  it  as 
their  pivot  for  action,  though  with  strange  disregard 
of  their  own  defense  they  had  not  yet  strengthened  it 
by  earthworks. 

Dollard  stood  near  the  brink  of  the  river  watching 
the  rapids.  His  scouts  had  already  encountered  some 
canoes  full  of  Iroquois  coming  down  the  Ottawa,  and 
in  a  skirmish  two  of  the  enemy  escaped.  The  main 
body,  hastened  by  these  refugees,  must  soon  reach 
the  Long  Saut,  unless  they  were  determined  utterly 
to  reject  and  avoid  the  encounter,  which  it  was 
scarcely  in  the  nature  of  Iroquois  to  do. 

No  canoes  yet  appeared  on  the  rapids,  but  against 
the  river's  southward  sweep  rode  a  new  little  craft 
holding  two  women.  Having  crossed  the  current 
below  and  hugged  the  western  shore,  this  canoe  shot 
out  before  Bollard's  eyes  as  suddenly  as  an  electric 
lancet  unsheathed  by  clouds. 

He  blanched  to  his  lips,  and  made  a  repellent 
gesture  with  both  hands  as  if  he  could  put  back  the 
woman  of  his  love  out  of  danger  as  swiftly  and  unac- 
countably as  she  put  herself  into  it.  But  his  only 
reasonable  course  was  to  drag  up  the  canoe  when 
Massawippa  beached  it. 

The  half-breed  girl  leaped  out  like  a  fawn  and  ran 
up  the  slope.  Annahotaha  came  striding  down  to 

13 


188  THE   ROMANCE  OF  DOLLARD. 

meet  her,  and  as  she  caught  him  around  the  body 
he  lifted  his  knife  as  if  the  impulse  which  drove  the 
arm  of  Virginius  had  been  reborn  in  a  savage  of  the 
New  World.  Massawippa  showed  her  white  teeth  in 
rapturous  smiling.  So  absolute  was  her  trust  in  him 
that  she  waited  thus  whatever  act  his  superior  wis- 
dom must  dictate.  That  unflinching  smile  brought 
out  its  answer  on  his  countenance.  A  copper  glow 
seemed  to  fuse  his  features  into  grotesquely  passionate 
tenderness.  He  turned  his  back  towards  his  braves 
and  hugged  the  child  to  his  breast,  smoothing  her 
wings  of  black  hair  and  uttering  guttural  murmurs 
which  probably  expressed  that  superlative  nonsense 
mothers  talk  in  the  privacy  of  civilized  nurseries. 

But  Claire,  pink  as  a  rose  from  sun  and  wind,  her 
head  covered  by  a  parchment  bonnet  of  birch  bark 
instead  of  the  cap  she  lost  at  the  island,  her  satin 
tatters  carefully  drawn  together  with  fibers  from 
porcupine  quills  and  loosened  from  the  girdle  to  flow 
around  her  worn  moccasins,  and  radiant  as  in  her 
loveliest  moments,  stretched  her  hands  for  Bollard's 
help. 

He  lifted  her  out  of  the  canoe  and  placed  her  upon 
the  ground ;  he  knelt  before  her  and  kissed  both  of 
her  hands. 

"  Good-morning,  monsieur  ! "  said  Claire,  triumph- 
antly. "You  left  no  command  against  my  follow- 
ing the  expedition." 


THE  HEROES  OF  THE  LONG  SAUT.     189 

That  palpitating  presence  which  we  call  life  seemed 
to  project  itself  beyond  their  faces  and  to  meet.  Her 
pinkness  and  triumph  were  instantly  gone  in  the 
whiter  heat  of  spiritual  passion.  She  began  to  sob, 
and  Dollard  stood  up  strongly  holding  her  in  his 
arms. 

'•'  The  paving-stone  where  you  knelt  —  how  I  kissed 
it — how  I  kissed  it !  " 

"  I  have  not  a  word,  Claire ;  not  one  word,"  said 
Dollard.  "  I  am  blind  and  dumb  and  glad." 

"  Oh,  do  be  blind  to  my  rags  and  scratches !  I 
would  have  crept  on  my  hands  and  face  to  you,  mon- 
sieur, my  saint !  But  now  I  am  not  crying." 

"  How  did  you  reach  us  unharmed  T n 

"  We  saw  no  Iroquois.     Have  you  yet  seen  them  t  * 

"  Not  yet." 

"But  there  was  the  river.  Massawippa  dragged 
me  through  that.  Your  face  looks  thin,  my  Dollard." 

"  I  have  suffered.  I  did  not  know  heaven  was  to 
descend  upon  me." 

The  Frenchmen  and  Indians,  a  stone's-throw 
away,  unable,  indeed,  to  penetrate  this  singular 
encounter  of  the  commandant's,  gave  it  scarcely 
a  moment's  attention,  but  turned  their  eager  gaze 
up  the  rapids.  Dollard  looked  also,  as  suggestion 
became  certainty. 

He  hurried  Claire  to  the  palisade,  calling  his  men 
to  arm. 


190  THE   ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

Upon  the  rapids  appeared  a  wonderful  sight. 
Bounding  down  the  broken  and  tumultuous  water 
came  the  Iroquois  in  canoes  which  seemed  unnum- 
bered. They  flung  themselves  ashore  and  at  the  fort 
like  a  wave,  and  like  a  wave  they  were  sent  trickling 
back  from  the  shock  of  their  reception. 

Massawippa  sat  down  by  Claire  in  the  small  in- 
closure  during  this  first  brush  with  the  enemy. 

There  was  no  time  for  either  Frenchmen  or  In- 
dians to  look  with  astonished  eyes  at  these  girls,  so 
soon  were  all  united  in  common  peril  and  bonds  of 
endurance.  Men  purified  by  the  devotion  of  such  an 
undertaking  could  accept  the  voluntary  presence  of 
women  as  they  might  accept  the  ranscared  alighting 
of  birds  in  the  midst  of  them. 

The  Iroquois  next  tried  to  parley,  in  order  to  take 
the  allies  unawares.  But  all  their  efforts  were  met 
with  volleys  of  ammunition.  So  they  drew  off  from 
the  palisade  and  began  to  cut  small  trees  and  build  a 
fort  for  themselves  within  the  shelter  of  the  woods, 
this  being  the  Iroquois  plan  of  besieging  an  enemy. 

Bollard  had  stored  all  his  supplies  and  tools  within 
his  palisade.  He  now  set  to  work  with  his  men  to 
strengthen  the  position.  They  drove  stakes  inside 
the  inclosure  and  filled  the  space  between  outer  and 
inner  pickets  with  earth  and  stones  as  high  as  their  - 
heads,  leaving  twenty  loop-holes.  Three  men  were 
appointed  to  each  loop-hole. 


THE   HEROES    OF   THE   LONG    SAUT.  191 

Before  the  French  had  finished  intrenching  them- 
selves the  Iroquois  broke  up  all  their  canoes,  lighted 
pieces  at  the  fires,  and  ran  to  pile  them  against  the 
palisade,  but  were  again  driven  back.  How  many 
attacks  were  made  Claire  did  not  know,  for  volley 
followed  volley  until  the  crack  of  muskets  seemed 
continuous,  but  the  Iroquois  attained  to  a  focus  of 
howling  when  the  principal  chief  of  the  Senecas,  one 
of  the  Five  Nations,  fell  among  their  dead. 

Morning  and  noon  passed  in  this  tumult  of  mus- 
ketry and  human  outcry.  In  the  unsullied  May 
weather  such  gunpowder  clouds  must  have  been 
strange  sights  to  nesting  birds  and  other  shy  creat- 
ures of  the  woods. 

Claire  and  Massawippa  looked  into  the  supplies  of  the 
fort  and  set  out  food,  but  the  water  was  soon  exhausted. 
Dusk  came.  Starlight  came.  The  first  rough  day  of 
this  continuous  battle  was  over,  but  not  the  battle. 
For  the  Iroquois  gave  the  allies  no  rest,  harassing 
them  through  that  and  every  succeeding  night. 

It  was  after  12  o'clock  before  Dollard  could  take 
Claire's  hands  and  talk  with  her  a  few  unoccupied 
minutes.  When  women  intrude  upon  men's  great 
labors  they  risk  destroying  their  own  tender  ideals, 
but  this  daughter  of  a  hundred  soldiers  had  watched 
her  husband  all  day  in  raptures  of  pride.  To  be 
near  him  in  the  little  arena  of  his  sacrifice  was 

worth  her  heart-chilling  vigil,   worth  her  toilsome 
n 


192  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

journey,  fully  worth  the  supreme  price  she  must 
yet  pay. 

Earth  from  the  breastworks,  distributed  by  thuds 
of  occasional  Iroquois  bullets,  spattered  impartially 
both  Claire  and  Dollard.  They  had  no  privacy.  Gut- 
tural Huron  and  Algonquin  murmurs  and  the  nervous 
intonation  of  French  voices  would  have  broken  into 
all  ordinary  conversation.  But  looking  deeply  at 
each  other,  and  unconsciously  breathing  in  the  same 
cadences,  they  had  their  moment  of  talk  as  if  stand- 
ing on  a  peak  together.  There  was  a  lonesome  bird 
in  the  woods  uttering  three  or  four  falling  notes, 
which  could  be  heard  at  intervals  when  not  drowned 
by  any  rising  din  of  the  Iroquois. 

"They  sent  a  canoe  down  river  this  afternoon," 
said  Dollard,  "  evidently  for  their  reinforcements 
from  below." 

"  How  long  do  you  think  we  can  hold  out  t "  in- 
quired Claire. 

"  Until  we  have  broken  their  force.  We  must  do 
that." 

"  I  was  on  an  island  at  the  mouth  of  the  Ottawa 
when  you  passed,  my  commandant.  That  was  purga- 
tory to  me." 

"  Since  you  reached  us,"  said  Dollard,  "  I  have  ac- 
cepted you  without  question  and  without  remorse.  I 
am  stupefied.  I  love  you.  But,  Claire,  to  what  a 
death  I  have  brought  you ! " 


THE  HEROES  OF  THE  LONG  SAUT.     193 

"  It  is  a  death  befitting  well  the  daughter  of  the 
stout-hearted  Constable  of  France.  But  do  not  leave 
me  again,  Dollard  !  n 

"  The  Iroquois  shall  not  touch  you  alive,  Claire,"  ha 
promised. 

"I  am  ready  shriven,"  she  said,  smiling.  "Ex- 
cept of  one  fault.  That  will  I  now  confess, —  a  fault 
committed  against  the  delicacy  of  women, —  and  I 
hated  the  abbess  and  the  bishop  because  they  detected 
me  in  it.  I  came  to  New  Prance  for  love  of  you,  my 
soldier.  Could  I  help  following  you  from  world  to 
world?" 

"  O  Claire ! "  trembled  Dollard,  taking  his  hat  off 
and  standing  uncovered  before  her. 

"  But  you  should  not  have  known  this  until  we  were 
old  —  until  you  had  seen  me  Madame  des  Onneaux 
many  years,  dignified  and  very,  very  discreet,  so  that 
no  breath  could  discredit  me  save  this  mine  own  con- 
fession." 

During  four  days  the  Iroquois  constantly  harassed 
the  fort  while  waiting  for  their  reinforcements,  en- 
raged more  each  day  at  their  own  losses  and  at  the 
handful  of  French  and  Indians  who  stood  in  the  way 
of  their  great  raid  upon  New  France.  Hungry,  thirsty, 
and  giddy  from  loss  of  sleep,  the  allies  in  the  fort 
stood  at  their  loop-holes  and  poured  out  destruction. 
Their  supplies  were  gone,  excepting  dry  hominy,  which 
they  could  not  swallow  without  water. 


194  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

Some  of  the  young  Frenchmen  made  a  rush  to  the 
river,  protected  by  the  guns  of  the  fort,  and  brought 
all  the  water  they  could  thus  carry.  They  also  dug 
within  the  palisade  and  reached  a  little  clayey  moist- 
ure which  helped  to  cool  their  mouths. 

Among  the  Iroquois  were  renegade  Hurons  who 
had  been  adopted  by  the  Five  Nations.  During  these 
four  days  of  trial  the  renegades  shouted  to  their 
brethren  in  the  fort  to  come  over  and  surrender  to 
the  Iroquois.  Seven  or  eight  hundred  more  warriors 
were  hurrying  from  the  mouth  of  the  Richelieu  River, 
and  not  a  blackened  coal  was  to  be  left  where  the  fort 
and  the  Frenchmen  stood. 

"Come  over/'  tempted  these  Hurons.  "The  Iro- 
quois will  receive  you  as  brothers.  Will  you  stay 
there  and  die  for  the  sake  of  a  few  Frenchmen  ?" 

First  one,  then  two  more,  then  three  at  a  time,  the 
famished  braves  of  Annahotaha  slipped  over  the  in- 
trenchment  and  deserted,  in  spite  of  his  rage  and 
exhortations. 

On  the  fifth  day,  an  hour  before  dawn,  a  hand  of 
auroral  light  spread  its  fingers  across  the  sky  from 
west  to  east.  Betwixt  these  finger-rays  were  dark 
spaces  having  no  stars,  but  through  the  pulsing 
medium  of  every  gigantic  finger  the  constellations 
glittered.  Many  signs  were  seen  in  the  heavens  dur- 
ing the  colonial  years  of  New  France,  but  nothing 
like  the  blessed  hand  stretched  over  the  Long  Saut. 


THE   HEROES    OF   THE   LONG    SAUT.  195 

That  day  rapids  and  forests  appeared  to  rock  with 
the  vibration  of  savage  yells,  for  soon  after  daylight 
the  expected  force  arrived. 

La  Mouche  had  sulked  some  time  at  the  loop-hole 
where  he  was  stationed  with  Annahotaha.  Massa- 
wippa's  back  was  towards  him  during  all  this  period 
of  distress.  She  never  saw  that  he  was  thirsty  and 
that  his  cracked  lips  bled.  If  she  was  solicitous  for 
anybody  except  the  stalwart  chief,  it  was  for  that 
white  wife  of  Dollard,  who  stood  always  near  Dol- 
lard  when  not  doing  what  could  be  done  for  the 
wounded. 

La  Mouche  had  no  stomach  for  dying  an  unre- 
warded death.  Dogged  hatred  of  his  false  position 
and  of  his  tardy  suit  had  grown  large  within 
him.  He  therefore  left  his  loop-hole  while  Anna- 
hotaha's  gun  was  emptied,  leaped  on  top  of  the 
palisade,  and  stretched  his  dark  face  back  an 
instant  to  interrogate  Massawippa's  quick  eye.  A 
motion  of  her  head  might  yet  bring  him  back*  But 
did  she  think  that  he  meant  to  be  killed  like  a  dog 
to  whom  the  bone  of  a  good  word  has  never  been 
thrown  f 

"My  father!"  shouted  the  girl,  pointing  with  a 
finger  which  pierced  La  Mouche's  soul.  "  Shoot  that 
coward ;  shoot  him  down  !  " 

Annahotaha  seized  the  long  pistol  from  his  side 
and  discharged  it  at  his  deserting  nephew.  But  La 


196  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

Mouche  in  the  same  instant  dropped  outside  and  ran 
over  to  the  Iroquois. 

There  remained  now  only  the  Frenchmen,  Annaho- 
taha,  and  the  four  Algonquins. 

Playfully,  as  a  eat  reaches  out  to  cuff  its  mouse, 
the  army  of  Iroquois  now  approached  the  fort.  They 
gamboled  from  side  to  side  and  uttered  screeches. 
But  the  loop-holes  were  yet  all  manned  by  men  who 
would  not  die  of  fatigue  and  physical  privation,  and 
the  fire  which  sprung  from  those  loop-holes  astounded 
the  enemy.  Guns  of  large  caliber  carried  scraps  of 
iron  and  lead,  and  mowed  like  artillery. 

Three  days  more,  says  the  chronicle,  did  this  fort 
by  the  Long  Saut  hold  out.  Who  can  tell  all  the 
story  of  those  days !  and  who  can  hear  all  the  story 
of  such  endurance  ?  When  acclamation  cheers  a  man's 
blood  and  a  great  cloud  of  witnesses  encompasses  him, 
heroic  courage  is  made  easy.  But  here  were  a  few 
doomed  men  in  the  wilderness,  whose  fate  and  whose 
action  might  be  misrepresented  by  a  surviving  foe — 
silent  fighters  against  odds,  thinking,  "  This  anguish 
and  sacrifice  of  mine  are  lost  on  the  void,  and  perhaps 
taken  no  account  of  by  any  intelligence,  except  that 
myself  knows  it,  and  myself  demands  it  of  me." 

This  is  the  courage  which  brings  a  man's  soul  up 
above  his  body  like  a  tall  flame  out  of  an  altar,  and 
makes  us  credit  the  tale  of  our  lineage  tracing  thus 
backward :  "  Which  was  the  son  of  Adam,  which  was 
the  son  of  God." 


Dollard  held  Claire  with  his  left  arm  and  fought  with 
his  sword." 


THE  HEEOES  OF  THE  LONG  SAUT.     197 

The  fort  could  not  be  taken  by  surprise ;  it  could 
not  be  taken  by  massed  sallies.  The  Iroquois  wrangled 
among  themselves.  Some  were  for  raising  the  siege 
and  going  back  to  their  own  country.  Their  best 
braves  lay  in  heaps.  But  others  scouted  the  eternal 
disgrace  of  leaving  unpunished  so  pitiful  a  foe. 

Finally  they  made  themselves  great  shields  of  split 
logs,  broad  as  a  door,  and  crept  forward  under  cover  of 
these  to  hew  away  the  palisades.  Mad  for  revenge, 
they  used  their  utmost  skill  and  caution. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Dollard,  among  his  reel- 
ing and  praying  men — men  yet  able  to  smile  with 
powder-blackened  faces  through  the  loop-holes — took 
a  large  musketoon,  filled  it  with  explosives,  and 
plugged  it  ready  to  throw  among  the  enemy.  His 
arms  had  not  remaining  strength  to  fling  it  clear  of 
the  palisade's  jagged  top.  It  fell  back  and  exploded 
in  the  fort,  and  amidst  the  frightful  confusion  the 
Iroquois  made  their  first  breach,  to  find  it  defended ; 
and  yet  another  breach,  and  yet  another,  overflowing 
the  inclosure  with  all  their  swarms. 

Smoke-clouds  curled  around  the  bride  who  had 
trod  that  sward  and  borne  her  part  in  the  suffering. 
Half  blinded  by  the  explosion,  Dollard  held  Claire 
with  his  left  arm  and  fought  with  his  sword.  As  firm 
and  white  as  a  marble  face,  the  face  of  the  Laval- 
Montmorency  met  her  foes.  The  blood  of  man- war- 
riors, even  of  Anne,  the  great  and  warlike  Constable 
of  France,  throbbed  steadfastly  in  the  arm  which 


198  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLARD. 

grasped  her  husband  and  the  heart  which  stood  by 
his  until  they  were  swept  down  by  the  same  volley  of 
musketry,  and  lay  as  one  body  among  the  dead.  Per- 
haps to  Claire  and  Dollard  it  was  but  sudden  release 
from  thirst,  hunger,  exhaustion,  and  victorious  howl- 
ing. For  La  Mouche  found  Massawippa  pointing  as  if 
she  saw  through  the  earthwork.  The  half-breed's 
eyes  glowed  with  expansive  brightness,  as  a  spark 
does  just  before  it  expires.  Her  childish  contours 
were  beautiful,  and  unbroken  by  pain. 

"  Father,"  said  Massawippa  with  effort, —  the  chief 
was  dead,  having  saved  her  from  the  Iroquois  with 
the  last  stroke  of  his  hand,— "do  you  see  madame 
—  and  the  commandant  —  walking  there  under  — 
birches?77  Her  face  smiled  as  she  died,  and  remained 
set  in  its  smile. 

There  are  people  who  steadily  live  the  lives  they  hate, 
whose  common  speech  misrepresents  their  thought, 
who  walk  the  world  fettered.  Is  it  better  with  these 
than  with  winged  souls  ? 

Fire  and  smoke  of  a  great  burning  rose  up  and 
blinded  the  day  beside  the  Long  Saut.  It  was  a 
mighty  funeral  pile.  The  tender  grass  all  around, 
licked  by  flame,  gave  juices  of  the  earth  to  that 
sacrifice.  The  wine  of  young  lives,  the  spices  and 
treasures  of  courageous  hearts,  went  freely  to  it,  and 
for  more  than  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  years  love 
and  gratitude  have  consecrated  the  spot. 


XX. 

POSTERITY. 

HREE  weeks  after  Bollard's  de- 
parture Jacques  Goffinet  took  the 
boat  and  one  Huron  Indian  whom 
Dollard  had  sent  back  with  the 
boat  and  set  off  to  Montreal  to 
obey  his  master's  final  order. 

No  appearances  on  the  river  had  caused  alarm  at 
St.  Bernard.  While  record  has  not  been  made  of 
the  route  taken  by  the  Iroquois  brought  from  the 
Richelieu,  it  is  evident  that  they  passed  north  of 
Montreal  island,  avoiding  settlements. 

Montreal  was  waiting  in  silence  and  anxiety  for 
news  of  the  expedition. 

The  first  person  whom  Jacques  encountered  was 
the  nuns'  man  Jouaneaux,  watching  the  St.  Lawrence 
with  uneasy  expectation  in  his  eyes. 

199 


200  THE.  ROMANCE    OF   DOLLARD. 

When  they  had  exchanged  greetings  as  men  do 
when  each  thinks  only  of  the  information  he  can  get 
from  the  other,  Jouaneaux  said  : 

"  You  come  from  up  river  ? " 

"From  St.  Bernard  island,"  replied  Jacques. 
"What  news  of  the  expedition?" 

But  Jouaneaux  had  widened  his  mouth  receptively. 

"You  are  then  from  the  commandant  Bollard's 
seigniory  ? " 

"  The  commandant  is  my  seignior,"  said  Jacques. 

Jouaneaux  laid  hold  of  his  sleeve. 

"  Did  Mademoiselle  de  Granville  return  to  St. 
Bernard  and  take  the  little  half-breed  Sister  with 
her?" 

"Mademoiselle  de  Granville,  my  commandant's 
sister,  is  at  St.  Bernard;  yes,"  replied  Jacques,  ar- 
rested and  stupefied  by  such  inquiries. 

"  Look  you  here,  my  good  friend,"  exclaimed  Joua- 
neaux. "  I  speak  for  the  nuns  of  St.  Joseph  of  the 
Hotel-Dieu,  where  your  master  put  his  sister  for 
protection  before  he  set  out.  Was  not  her  fire  built 
to  suit  her?  We  are  poor,  but  our  hospitality  is 
free,  and  we  love  not  to  have  it  flung  back  in  our 
faces.  Still,  I  say  nothing  of  mademoiselle.  She 
hath  her  seigniory  to  look  after,  and  she  was  not 
a  novice." 

"  My  master  left  my  lady  at  the  governor's  house," 
asserted  Jacques. 


POSTERITY.  201 

"  But,"  continued  Jouaneaux,  "  this  I  will  say :  ill 
did  she  requite  us  in  that  she  carried  off  the  novice 
Massawippa,  whose  father,  the  Huron  chief,  had  put 
her  in  the  H6tel-Dieu  to  take  vows." 

"I  will  go  to  the  governor,"  threatened  Jacques, 
feeling  himself  baited. 

"And  what  will  it  profit  thee  to  go  to  the  gov- 
ernor? The  governor  is  a  just  man,  and  he  hath  the 
good  of  the  H6tel-Dieu  at  heart." 

4<  I  know  nothing  about  your  H6tel-Dieu,"  said 
Jacques,  having  forebodings  at  his  heart. 

"  But  where  is  our  novice  t *  persisted  Jouaneaux, 
following  him. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  your  novice." 

At  the  governor's  house,  by  scant  questions  on  his 
part  and  much  speech  on  Jouaneaux's,  he  learned 
that  Dollard  was  yet  unheard  from,  that  Claire  had 
been  left  at  the  hospital,  and  for  some  unspoken 
reason,  which  Jacques  silently  accepted  as  good  since 
it  was  the  commandant's  reason,  she  had  been  received 
as  the  commandant's  sister ;  and  finally  that  she  had 
disappeared  with  a  young  novice,  the  daughter  of 
Annahotaha,  soon  after  the  expedition  left,  and  no 
one  in  Montreal  knew  anything  else  about  her. 

Distressed  to  muteness  by  such  tidings,  Jacques 
went  back  to  his  boat,  still  followed  by  Jouaneaux, 
and  pushed  off  up  the  river  with  the  malediction  of 
St.  Joseph  invoked  upon  him. 


202  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

As  his  Huron  rowed  back  along  Lake  St.  Louis 
they  saw  a  canoe  drifting,  and  cautiously  approach- 
ing it  they  found  that  it  held  a  wounded  brave  in  the 
war-dress  of  the  Hurons.  He  lay  panting  in  his 
little  craft,  feverish  and  helpless,  and  they  towed 
him  to  the  island  and  carried  him  up  into  the 
seigniory  kitchen. 

The  May  sun  shone  and  bees  buzzed  past  the 
windows;  all  the  landscape  and  the  pleasant  world 
seemed  to  contradict  the  existence  of  such  a  blot 
on  nature  as  a  blood-streaked  man. 

The  family  gathered  fearfully  about  La  Mouche 
as  he  lay  upon  a  bear-skin  brought  down  from  the 
saloon  for  him  by  Joan. 

Jacques  gave  him  brandy  and  Louise  bathed  his 
wounds.  They  used  such  surgery  as  they  knew,  and 
La  Mouche  told  them  all  the  story  of  the  Long  Saut 
except  his  desertion.  None  of  five  deserters  who 
escaped  from  the  Iroquois,  and  from  the  tortures  to 
which  the  Iroquois  put  all  the  deserters  after  burning 
the  fort,  could  tell  the  truth  about  their  own  action 
until  long  after. 

Jacques  turned  away  from  this  renegade  and  threw 
both  arms  around  one  of  the  cemented  pillars. 
Louise  fell  on  her  knees  beside  him,  and  the  broad 
hall  was  filled  with  wailings.  There  were  consola- 
tions which  Louise  remembered  when  her  religion 
and  her  stolid  sense  of  duty  began  reconciling  her 


POSTERITY.  203 

to  the  eternal  absence  of  Claire  and  Dollard.  She 
stood  up  and  took  her  apron  to  wipe  her  good  man's 
eyes,  saying  without  greediness  and  merely  as  seizing 
on  a  tangible  fact : 

"  Thou  hast  the  island  of  St.  Bernard  left  thee." 

"  But  he  that  is  gone,"  sobbed  Jacques,  "  he  was  to 
me  more  than  the  whole  earth." 

The  four  other  Hurons  who  escaped  carried  all  the 
details  of  the  battle,  except  their  own  desertion,  to 
Montreal.  But  the  Iroquois  were  not  so  reticent,  and 
in  time  this  remnant  of  Hurons  was  brought  to  admit 
that  Annahotaha  alone  of  the  tribe  stood  by  the 
Frenchmen  to  the  last. 

As  for  the  Iroquois,  they  slunk  back  to  their  own 
country  utterly  defeated  and  confounded.  They  had 
no  further  desire  to  fight  such  an  enemy.  Says  the 
historian,*  "If  seventeen  Frenchmen,  four  Algon- 
quins,  and  one  Huron,  behind  a  picket  fence,  could 
hold  seven  hundred  warriors  at  bay  so  long,  what 
might  they  expect  from  many  such  fighting  behind 
walls  of  stone  f"  The  colony  of  New  France  was 
redeemed  out  of  their  hands.  After  the  struggle 
at  the  Long  Saut  it  enjoyed  such  a  period  of  rest 
and  peace  as  the  Iroquois  had  not  permitted  it  for 
years. 

WTien  La  Mouche  recovered  from  his  wounds  he 
crept  away  to  his  cote  down  the  river,  and  with  little 
*  Francis  Parkman. 


204  THE    ROMANCE    OF   DOLLAED. 

regret  the  people  on  St.  Bernard  heard  of  him  no 
more. 

Jacques  and  Louise  remained  in  possession  of  St. 
Bernard,  and  on  that  island  their  stout-legged  children 
played,  or  learned  contented  thrift,  or  followed  their 
father  in  his  sowing;  their  delight  being  the  real 
priest  who  came  with  his  glowing  altar  to  teach  them 
religion,  and  their  terror  the  pretended  priest  in  the 
top  apartment  of  their  house.  For  Mademoiselle  de 
Granville  lived  many  years,  so  indulged  in  her  humors 
that  the  story  went  among  neighboring  seigniories 
that  she  had  an  insane  brother  whom  she  imprisoned 
on  St.  Bernard  out  of  tenderness  towards  him,  instead 
of  sending  him  to  some  asylum  in  Prance.* 

Rather  because  her  memory  was  a  spot  of  tender- 
ness within  themselves  always  on  the  point  of  bleed- 
ing, than  because  of  their  ignorant  dread  of  law's 
intermeddling,  Jacques  and  Louise  never  told  about 
Bollard's  bride.  The  marriage  had  taken  place  in 
Quebec.  Dollier  de  Casson,  who  celebrated  it,  made 
no  record  of  the  fact  in  connection  with  his  account 
of  Dollard's  exploit.  The  jealousies  and  bickerings 
then  rising  high  between  Quebec  and  Montreal  clouded 
or  misrepresented  or  suppressed  many  a  transaction. 
And  honest  Dollier  de  Casson,  who  no  doubt  learned 
by  priestly  methods  the  fate  of  the  bride,  may  have 
seen  fit  to  withhold  the  luster  of  her  devotion  from 
*Le  Moine. 


POSTERITY.  205 

the  name  of  Laval,  since  the  bishop  pressed  no  in- 
quiries after  his  impulsive  young  relative.  News 
stretched  slowly  to  and  from  France  then.  Her 
name  dropped  out  of  all  records,  except  the  notarial 
one  of  her  marriage,  and  a  faint  old  clew  which  an 
obscure  scribe  has  left  embodying  a  scarcely  credited 
tale  told  by  the  Huron  deserters.  Without  monu- 
ment, what  was  once  her  beautiful  body  has  become 
grass,  flowers,  clear  air,  beside  the  hoarse  rapids.  She 
died,  as  many  a  woman  has  died,  silently  crowning 
the  deed  done  by  a  man,  and  in  her  finer  immortality 
can  perhaps  smile  at  being  forgotten,  since  it  is  not 
by  him. 

But  Bollard  has  been  the  darling  of  his  people  for 
more  than  two  and  a  quarter  centuries. 

On  every  midsummer-day,  when  the  festival  of  St. 
John  the  Baptist  is  kept  with  pageant,  music,  banners, 
and  long  processions;  when  thousands  choke  the 
streets,  and  triumphal  arch  after  triumphal  arch  lifts 
masses  of  flowers  to  the  June  sun;  when  invention 
has  taxed  itself  to  carry  beautiful  living  pictures  be- 
fore the  multitude  —  then  there  is  always  a  tableau  to 
commemorate  the  heroes  of  the  Long  Saut.  If  young 
children  or  if  strangers  ask,  "Who  was  Dollard?" 
any  Frenchman  is  ready  to  answer : 

"He  was  a  man  of  courageous  heart;*  he  saved 
Canada  from  the  Iroquois." 

*  "  Dollard,  on  homme  de  coeur,"  says  Abb6  Faillon. 


206  THE   ROMANCE    OF  DOLLAED. 

The  dullest  soul  is  stirred  to  passionate  acclamatioi 
as  the  chevalier  and  his  sixteen  men  go  by. 

And  when  we  tell  our  stories,  shall  we  tell  then 
only  of  the  commonplace,  the  gay,  the  debonair  lif 
of  this  world  ?  Shall  the  heroes  be  forgotten  ? 


THE  END. 


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'       if  7  1^ 

AUG  22  1938 

4U6  j^ 

**     ILl^n 

"40 

OCT  10  1942 

-P    fl    t942 

DEC    w 

LD  21-100m-8,'34 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


